


Silver Cloud, Dark Lining

by kandacek (firefly63)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly63/pseuds/kandacek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> That last mission to Peru once again rears its ugly head.<br/>Will Jim survive? Can his Guide help him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. SCDL Acknowledgements

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** At the time this was initially written my aim was to write a story that would put Jim in uniform, but I couldn't come up with a plausible reason short of re-activating him. There just isn't a valid reason for him to put on a dress uniform, even on Memorial Day. So, I compromised. Hopefully, you'll see what I mean when you read it. My main purpose for writing this particular story was to provide some real information that can/could be used by anyone who's interested in Jim's military background. I strove to stick as close to canon as possible, enhancing it with this story. The terms, abbreviations, and unit designations are accurate to the best of my knowledge. In other words, if PetFly chose to give us some real background on Jim, they'd have to use some of what I've used in this story. All that being said, here are a couple of other facts. Despite what we saw in "Remembrance," I maintain that Jim was born in '57 or '58. Mainly because if he enlisted without going to college first, it would have taken him ten years to make captain (this according to my husband who was directly commissioned into the Army from his military school). Ten years is the minimum time frame. On the other hand, either age works if he enlisted upon getting a 4-year degree, went to military school, or through a ROTC program in college. In such a case he would receive what's called a "Direct Commission" and he would have the rank of Second Lieutenant (2LT). He would make Captain in three years. The chopper went down March 14, 1988 (Switchman). The "News Update" cover is dated September 1989. The subtitle on Switchman reads "5 years later", that should, in theory, put their first meeting in 1995, but Susan has pointed out that Blair frequently states they've known each other for three years, which means they didn't meet until 1996. Ah well.

**Acknowledgments:** I have a long list of acknowledgments this time. First and foremost my husband of nearly eleven (now 24) years, Bill (I met him in uniform :) ). Though he's less than keen on my obsession with fanfic, he patiently answered my questions concerning the Army. (I love hearing him talk about the Army.) He went through Wentworth Military Academy and spent seventeen years in the Army Reserves, ending up as a major. If you think the Reserves train just one weekend a month, well, it ain't necessarily so (especially for officers). He sometimes put in as much active duty time as a regular. Next, my friend Barbara, who frequently joins me in these endeavors. She, too, is a military wife. Her husband was a staff sergeant in the Marines and served two tours in 'Nam as a supply sergeant. She knows sides of an enlisted man's life that I never could. Her help and occasional bashing were very much appreciated. Next, Susan L. Williams, HMG herself. She betaed all of my TS fic up to this point, and she was my first cyber-friend in the TS world. She would beg and plead for more each time I sent her a bit to read. Her reaction to this story was a big boost to my ego, my first endeavor outside a missing scene. Next, D.L. Witherspoon. I brought her in about half way through, but she was every bit as valuable getting this thing written as everyone else. She was able to see places where I was beginning to stray from character and get me back on track. And, for those of you who are familiar with her stories, you might recognize a character reference. I had plans for Adam Black, but after it was all said and done, he wasn't necessary. Thanks, D.L., for letting me borrow them. Last, but definitely not least, Robyn, for her help with a medical situation. It's nice to have our own resident "resident" in our little tribe. :) 

**Special Thanks:** Special thanks and gratitude go to Chuck Payne. He was a member of Special Forces though I don't know what rank he was or what group he was with. A lot of the actual information for this story came from his web site. I couldn't ask him specific questions about Special Forces of course, but he was willing to answer a couple of general questions from this strange woman when my husband didn't know the answer. :) Unfortunately the URL has long since been taken down. **U.S.Army Special Forces: The Green Berets**

**Other sources included:** **United States Military Awards, Decorations** **ADVA Army Awards,** **Military Aircraft Archive: Helicopters (links no longer work)**

**Warnings:** PG-13 for language and violence. I make references to events in many Sentinel episodes, among them Switchman, Secret, Survival, Love Kills, and Sentinel, Too. There are probably others that I'm forgetting. You should still enjoy the story, even if you haven't seen all these episodes. I take heavily from Switchman, but again, it's only references. 

**Disclaimer:** The usual drill. I do not own the show or its characters. They belong to Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo and PetFly. The story and any characters you don't recognize from the show belong to me. No money is being made off this story. 

###  **Silver Cloud, Dark Lining**

#### by [KandaceK](mailto:kandacek@skeeter63.org?subject=Cloud)

Original Date Posted: 04-09-99

* * *

Now onto the story...

I crave feedback. I even answer it. [_kandacek_](mailto:guide@skeeter63.org)


	2. Silver Cloud, Dark Lining Part 1 -- The First Coin

* * *

**March 15, Monday**

> Blair Sandburg, doctoral student in Anthropology, police observer, and Sentinel's Guide, unlocked and entered the loft. Juggling a grocery sack and a handful of mail, he tossed his keys in the basket, gently kicked the door shut and placed his burden on the counter. Quickly shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it on a hook by the door, he picked up the mail and carried it to the table. On top of the stack was an official looking letter from Rainier University, where he was a teaching fellow and student. Ripping open the envelope and pulling out the paper, he quickly scanned the words. _Yes!_ He bounced on his toes as his face lit with a grin. One of his ever-important grants had been approved. Blair set the letter down and picked up the stack of mail again, beginning to sort it into two piles. Those addressed to his loftmate and partner, Jim Ellison, police detective and Sentinel of the Great City, he put in one pile, his went in the other. Bill. Bill. Bill. Dept. of Anthropology, Rainier. He stopped to open this one as well. Another grant approval. The grad student bounced once again. 
> 
> He continued through the stack. Junk. Junk. Junk. Bill. Bank statement. Junk. Bill. _Hello? What's this?_ Blair looked at the small, white disk mailer with curiosity. It was addressed to Jim. That was strange. Jim left most of the computer work to him. With a lingering glance at the cardboard mailer, Blair returned to the kitchen, put the groceries away and began to work on supper. 
> 
> About an hour later Blair heard the key in the lock. He looked up as Jim came in. "Hey, Jim," he greeted as the other man tossed his keys in the basket. 
> 
> "Hey, Chief," was the affable response. "Smells good. Is that salmon?" 
> 
> "Uh-huh. It's a salmon puff." 
> 
> "Is that healthy, Chief?" 
> 
> Blair grinned. "It's certainly healthier than Mr. Tube Steak or Wonder Burger." Jim smiled as he hung up his jacket. "It should be ready in about ten minutes." Blair got a single nod in answer, as the larger man moved to the table. 
> 
> "What's this?" Jim asked, holding up the disk mailer. 
> 
> Blair shrugged. "I don't know. It came in the mail." Curious about the package himself, he left the kitchen and came to stand across from his partner. Jim glanced up at him. "You sense anything?" 
> 
> The Sentinel shook his head. "Although, whatever's in here isn't a disk. It doesn't feel right." 
> 
> Blair watched as Jim opened the package and dumped the contents into his. A large coin fell out. Puzzled, the anthropologist looked up from the coin to Jim, hoping for some enlightenment. He was surprised to see the color drain from his friend's face, and horror reflected in Jim's blue eyes. "Jim?" 
> 
> His voice broke the mini-zone or whatever it was. Abruptly Ellison dropped the coin as if scalded and headed toward the stairs. 
> 
> "Jim?" he called again in concern. The other man didn't answer, just continued up the stairs to his room. Blair watched his friend disappear. With one last worried glance up to the bedroom loft, he looked down at the cause of Jim's distress. After a moment, he slipped his glasses on and picked up the coin. On the front, at the top the words "7TH SPECIAL FORCES GROUP (AIRBORNE)" were inscribed. Just below them were the words "1ST SPECIAL FORCES". At the bottom, in a stylized ribbon were the words, "ANYTHING ANYTIME ANYWHERE". In the center a large numeral seven was superimposed over what looked like a global satellite image of Central and South America. Three arrows pointed down on the leg of the numeral. Blair turned the coin over. At the top of the back, in a ribbon, were the words "DE OPPRESSO LIBER." _To free the oppressed_ his mind automatically translated. At the bottom, in another ribbon, were the words "WITH HONOR". In the center, a beret with flash rested atop an open scroll engraved with the name "C. Hickman, SFC." In tiny detail on the flash was a crest with two crossed arrows and a knife bisecting them. 
> 
> _Was it the name, or the coin itself that sent Jim running?_ Blair's eyes strayed back to the lower inscription. It sounded like a vow. A shiver coursed down his spine as the words etched themselves in his mind. There were probably no better words to describe how his friend conducted his life. 
> 
> The oven timer dinged, startling him out of his thoughts. Casting another glance up at the bedroom loft, Blair went back to the kitchen. He turned the oven off and opened the oven door slightly so the meal would stay warm for a while. Quietly he finished up the dinner salads he'd been fixing when his partner came home, and set the table. When this activity failed to produce his partner, Blair sighed. 
> 
> Gazing around the kitchen, he decided everything looked in order. The oven was off. The burners were off. Satisfied, Blair glanced up at the loft again. Pursing his lips as he considered his next move, he decided he'd left Jim alone long enough. He took a deep, calming breath, let it out slowly, and headed toward the stairs. 
> 
> He ascended them quietly. When his head drew even with the railing, he looked for his partner. He spotted him sitting on the edge of his bed, forearms on knees, gazing intently at something he held in his hands. Blair let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and climbed up the last few steps. "Jim? You okay?" he murmured. He was relieved when he got a slight nod. The Sentinel hadn't zoned at least. 
> 
> Still moving quietly, Blair crossed the intervening space to the bed, and cautiously sat down beside his friend. He looked at what Jim was holding, not surprised to see it was a coin. Tentatively, he held out his hand, mutely asking permission. After a moment, Jim sighed deeply, and placed the coin in his palm. Blair flashed him an encouraging smile, but the older man was now staring at the floor. He accepted that as he reached for the glasses in his pocket. Once he had them on, he studied the object in his hand. It seemed identical to the one still on their dining room table. He flipped it over. The name engraved on the scroll was "J. Ellison, CPT." He raised his head to look at Jim, and found the other man's focus back on the coin. Jim raised his eyes to meet Blair's. A small, wry smile greeted his questioning gaze. 
> 
> "Practically every Special Forces unit has a group coin. It's looked at as a way to check and maintain Esprit de Corps. Every soldier carries his with him at all times." Jim chuckled in sad amusement. "If he's caught without it when a coin check is called, he gets to buy a round of drinks for everyone. That's the modern usage." He gently retrieved the coin from Blair's hands. 
> 
> Blair watched for a moment while his partner fingered the coin, his thoughts obviously a long way away. He laid a hand on Jim's shoulder, squeezing gently. "This is bringing up some stuff, isn't it?" _And the anniversary of the crash was yesterday. Coincidence? I don't think so._
> 
> Jim swallowed. "Yeah." 
> 
> Softly. "Will you explain it to me?" 
> 
> "Explain what?" 
> 
> "The coin, man. Will you explain what's on it?" 
> 
> Now Jim's lips twitched, and Blair smiled hopefully. Jim pointed to the inscription on the front. "This is the unit designation. The Seventh Special Forces Group handles missions to Central and South America. Mainly covert. Anti-terrorism, enemy interdiction, native forces training, aiding and protecting indigenous peoples." 
> 
> "Like what you were doing with the Chopec?" Blair interrupted, amazed. This was the most information he'd ever gotten out of Jim regarding his Army career. 
> 
> Jim's jaw clenched, and he feared his partner was going to clam up. To his relief, the jaw relaxed, and Jim nodded. "Yeah. We were sent in to protect the Chopec from enemy activities in the area." 
> 
> Silence fell for a moment, then Jim seemed to shake himself and continued with the explanation. "The Seventh is part of the First Special Forces Division. The number seven over Central and South America symbolizes our sphere of operations and the importance the Seventh has down there. 'Anytime. Anything. Anywhere.' is our group motto. It simply means we're ready anytime to do anything and go anywhere." 
> 
> "Pretty self-explanatory, huh?" Blair quipped. 
> 
> Jim grunted in agreement, flipping the coin over. "'De Oppresso Liber'--To Free the Oppressed, is the motto of Special Forces. You can't tell it on the coin, but our beret flash is red with no embellishing. The crest on the flash is the crest of Special Forces. The crossed arrows symbolize the SF's role in unconventional warfare. The knife, used by the American Indian, symbolizes the qualities of an SF soldier--straight, true, silent, and deadly. There's a stylized ribbon that frames it, with the words 'De Oppresso Liber' at the bottom." Jim stopped, staring at the center of the coin. Just when Blair thought to press him, he continued, "The scroll is for the name or specialty of the individual who owns it. 'WITH HONOR' is kind of a personal motto. Kind of an individual reminder." 
> 
> Blair chuckled softly. 
> 
> Jim raised an eyebrow questioningly. 
> 
> "I was thinking downstairs that there were probably no two words that better described how you conduct yourself." 
> 
> Ellison stiffened for a moment, and Blair wondered what he'd said wrong. Finally, Jim shrugged, nodding acceptance. "There are some who might argue that with you, professor. But I try." 
> 
> "You do a damn fine job of it, too," Blair said adamantly, determined to make his partner see his self-worth. 
> 
> Jim's lips twitched, but he didn't quite smile. 
> 
> "Who's C. Hickman?" When he saw the pain and guilt flash across Jim's face, Blair was sorry he'd asked. He was preparing to apologize, when his friend spoke again. 
> 
> "Charlie Hickman, Sergeant First Class," came the whispered answer. "He was my communications officer." 
> 
> Blair inhaled sharply, immediately picking up on what Jim hadn't said. "Peru?" 
> 
> Jim nodded. 
> 
> "Oh, man," Blair said contritely, squeezing Jim's shoulder a little tighter. _I knew it couldn't be a coincidence._
> 
> There was silence for several heartbeats. Finally, Jim raised a hand to cup Blair's neck. "I'm hungry, Chief. Dinner ready?" 
> 
> Blair grinned, appreciating his partner's effort. "Yeah, Jim. Dinner's ready. Let's eat." 
> 
> Downstairs, the anthropologist set the food on the table while the detective got them each a beer. They sat down to eat. Blair watched in amusement as Jim gave the salmon the scent test, then cautiously took a bite. This was something his Sentinel always did when he introduced a new recipe. It had been a long time since he'd fixed anything the other man couldn't handle, but he always took the precaution nevertheless. Blair wasn't offended. With his friend's hyper-senses it was always better to be extra cautious with a new food than to regret it later. 
> 
> "This is pretty good, Chief. Something new to add to the collection," Jim said with a genuine smile. 
> 
> "Good. I'm glad you like it." Their conversation was light and sporadic, interspersed with companionable silences. At one point, Sandburg's curiosity won out and he asked, "So, how'd that end up here? Any idea?" 
> 
> "No. The coins would have been placed with their personal effects once the bodies were retrieved." Jim nodded toward the coin on the other end of the table. "That should have gone to Hickman's family." 
> 
> "Maybe somebody found it, and sent it to you, figuring you could get it back to Hickman's family?" Blair ventured, though he wasn't convinced. 
> 
> "Whoever sent this must know about my last mission to Peru. Know about what happened. Know that Hickman was one of my men. Know yesterday was the anniversary of the crash." 
> 
> Blair grimaced at this observation, having hoped Jim wouldn't remember the date. He should have known better. "Jim, I know about your last mission to Peru, remember? Your story was in "News Update" after they rescued you. The article named the men who had died." 
> 
> The older man nodded, swallowing. "Yeah, but after ten plus years, do you remember their names?" he asked thickly. 
> 
> "Point," Blair admitted. "Oh, hey, two of my grants have been approved. I received the letters today." 
> 
> "That's great, Chief." Jim gratefully accepted the change to a lighter topic. "Does that mean you'll be buying the groceries for a while?" 
> 
> Blair rolled his eyes. "Funny, man. You are so not funny." 
> 
> Ellison chuckled, finishing off his beer. 

**March 23, Tuesday**

> Another day almost over. Jim arrived home just as Blair was getting the mail. "Hey, man." 
> 
> "Hey, Chief," the detective greeted him with a weary sigh. 
> 
> Blair took a closer look at his friend, noting the creased forehead and squinting eyes. _Headache_. With a calm assuredness he wouldn't have displayed a few months ago, he gripped his Sentinel's elbow and gently steered him into the elevator. Still maintaining a light contact, the Guide spoke. "Okay, Jim. Do your breathing." When the big man had done that, almost instantly relaxing, Blair continued. "Good. Now, find the pain dial and turn it down a notch. Keep going until it's just tolerable. Don't erase it completely, pain reminds you there's something wrong. We'll work on the tension when we get upstairs." 
> 
> Jim sighed in relief, smiling down at his partner. "Thanks, Chief. I've been trying to do that all afternoon, but only succeeded in getting it to five." 
> 
> "Where's it at now?" 
> 
> "Two." 
> 
> "Oh, man, that must be some headache." 
> 
> The elevator doors opened and they stepped off. As they walked to their door, Jim said, "I'll certainly be glad to get rid of it." 
> 
> Blair nodded in sympathy as Jim allowed him to step inside first. He turned back around to face his partner as they each shrugged out of their jackets. Blair was still holding the mail and he had to shift it from one hand to the other. "Rough day? You should have called me. I thought we'd agreed, no more leaving me behind." 
> 
> Jim held up his hands to fend off the flow of words. "Whoa, Chief. It was nothing like that." The older man stepped to the couch and sagged into the cushions. "My morning was filled with paperwork, and my afternoon with a deposition at the D.A.'s office. For four solid hours. The headache started soon after I started answering their stupid questions. I'm beat." 
> 
> Blair set the mail temporarily on the table and went behind his friend. Placing his broad hands on either side of Jim's neck, he used his thumbs to gently knead a path from just behind Jim's ears down to where neck met shoulder. He heard the quiet exhalation of air, felt the slight relaxation in the broad shoulders, and smiled. 
> 
> Several minutes later, Jim's soft voice broke the silence. "The pain's gone, Chief. Thank you." 
> 
> Blair smiled, though Jim couldn't see it. He slid his hands onto his Sentinel's shoulders, patted them, then withdrew. "You're welcome, Jim. Any time," he said quietly. Blair moved back to the table, picked up the mail, and began to sort through it. 
> 
> "Uh-oh." 
> 
> "What?" Jim's head swiveled around from the couch to look. 
> 
> With trepidation, Blair held up a white disk mailer. He silently groaned when he saw Jim's jaw muscles bulge and blue eyes turn to ice. The big man was off the couch and plucking the package out of his hands in an instant. 
> 
> He waited anxiously as Jim simply stared at it, making no move to open it. Finally, taking a steadying breath, Ellison pulled the zip cord, and upturned the mailer. As expected, a coin fell into the big man's palm. 
> 
> Blair exhaled softly. He looked up to see the jaw muscles doing their dance. He could almost see Jim's neck and shoulder muscles tighten, and he reached up a hand to his friend's shoulder. Jim closed his eyes for a moment, then silently reached out to flip the coin over. They read the name inscribed: "M. Johnson, SFC." The grad student waited for Jim's reaction, expecting an explosion, but instead felt his partner relax just slightly. "Jim?" 
> 
> With a heavy sigh, the big man turned his gaze to Blair. "I don't know him, Chief. There was no Johnson in my group." Jim's voice was filled with a mixture of relief and confusion. 
> 
> Blair furrowed his brow, equally confused. He reached for the coin. Jim didn't protest. Quickly slipping on his glasses, he studied the piece of metal. Everything but the name on the scroll was identical to the first coin received. "That's strange, man. Very strange. Why would someone send you a coin of someone you don't even know?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head. "I don't know, but I have a bad feeling about this." 
> 
> Blair grimaced. "Yeah." 
> 
> Taking back the coin, studying it, Ellison said, "I think I'll make a couple of phone calls tomorrow. See what I can find out about who this belongs to. Right now, the only common denominator I see, is that we were all in the same unit." 
> 
> "Who're you gonna call?" 
> 
> Jim looked up at him now, giving him a crooked smile. "I still have a couple of contacts at Fort Bragg. They might be willing to give me some information." 
> 
> Around two o'clock the next afternoon, Blair entered the bullpen. Returning a favor to a friend, he'd spent his morning at the University proctoring exams. Now it was time to help his partner. "Hi, Jim. How's it goin'?" 
> 
> Jim looked up. "Hey. Just great. Paperwork and more paperwork." 
> 
> Blair grinned, bouncing on his toes. "Well, I guess that's what I'm here for, huh? To rescue you from the dreaded paperwork monster." 
> 
> Jim scooted his chair back and stood up, gesturing for Blair to take a seat. Before the police observer sat down, a familiar hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up into concerned blue eyes. 
> 
> "You're here for more than just the paperwork, Chief. I hope you know that." 
> 
> Blair was surprised by this unexpected reassurance and affirmation of their partnership. _These coins must have him a little more rattled than I thought_. He reached up and gripped the bigger man's arm. "Yeah, Jim. I do. Thanks." 
> 
> Jim smiled faintly, squeezing Blair's shoulder before dropping his hand. The grad student flashed his friend an encouraging smile as he sat down. The detective took the chair beside the desk. 
> 
> As he slipped his glasses on and opened the first folder, Blair asked, "Did you find out anything about the coin?" 
> 
> Jim nodded, resting an elbow on the desk as he perused another file. "Yeah. Michael Johnson, age fifty. He retired from the Army two years ago." 
> 
> "Anything else?" Blair sensed that his partner had learned something unsettling. 
> 
> "His specialty was communications." 
> 
> "The same as Hickman?" 
> 
> Jim nodded again. "Yeah." 
> 
> Blair chewed on the inside of his lip, lost in thought. Finally, he looked at his partner. "Coincidence?" 
> 
> "Maybe, but do _you_ think so?" 
> 
> "No," he admitted. "Still no idea what this could be about?" 
> 
> Jim sighed, sitting back in the chair. "No, but it seems like, whatever it is, it's personal." 
> 
> Blair tilted his head in agreement, watching his partner. He could tell another tension headache was in the offing if he didn't do something to take Jim's mind off the mystery. Before he could say anything, however, his partner shrugged and shook his head. 
> 
> "Well, the problem's not going anywhere. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Why don't we get to work on these files?" 
> 
> "Sounds fine to me. Jim?" When he had his friend's full attention, Blair leaned forward and placed a hand on Jim's forearm. "We'll figure this out." 
> 
> Jim gave him a tiny smile, and patted his hand. "Yeah. We will." The detective went back to reading his file. Blair began typing up the report on the file in front of him. 

**April 1, Thursday**

> Blair worked late at the University. After his last class, he ensconced himself in his office to finish grading the tests he'd given the day before. He could have taken them home to finish, but since he only had a few remaining, Blair figured he could make short work of them and post the grades well ahead of the posting deadline. Around eight o'clock, just as he'd begun posting grades for the second half of his students, Blair was struck by an uneasy feeling that compelled him to hurry home. 
> 
> Blair hadn't had the chance to fully analyze it, but he knew Sentinel and Guide were connected by some invisible cord. The connection had always been there, but after the events with an enemy named Alex Barnes nearly a year earlier, their bond had deepened and blossomed into an almost tangible thing. Alex had tried to break that bond, almost succeeding. In the end, the Guide and his chosen Sentinel had emerged intact and stronger for their ordeal. Jim was aware of the link, even listened to it when it resonated, but he preferred not to think about it. The metaphysical still unnerved him. Blair embraced the link, never ignoring its call. When he suddenly got the feeling something was wrong with his Sentinel, he obeyed. He quickly gathered his things, locked his office, and jumped in his car. 
> 
> The feeling of unease increased as Blair approached the door to the loft. He wasn't experiencing the mind numbing fear he would if his Sentinel were in mortal danger, and for that he was thankful, but he was worried. When he opened the door, Blair found the living room lit only by the small lamp on the end table. His partner was sitting on the couch, fingering something shiny in one hand, and holding a beer in the other. The older man didn't acknowledge his presence. Blair took off his jacket and hung it on a hook. Quietly, he walked to the couch. As he down beside Jim, he could see what his friend was toying with. 
> 
> Blair gasped softly. "Another one?" 
> 
> Jim nodded, staring at the floor beyond his crossed ankles. 
> 
> Blair laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Do you know this one?" 
> 
> Again, Jim nodded. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Kelly Hill, Sergeant First Class. He was my medic. He made us all laugh. He had a wife and six-year-old daughter when we went to Peru." Jim's voice cracked. "He was so proud of her." 
> 
> Blair's throat tightened. He, the man of many words, had none for this occasion. Instead, Blair did the only thing he could think to do. He placed an arm around Jim's shoulders and pulled the big man close. Jim came unresisting into the embrace. They sat that way for a long time. While Blair held his friend, he wondered who could be sending the coins, and about their purpose. The two coins belonging to the men of Jim's team were obviously meant to unsettle the former military man. Judging by his friend's current reaction, they were succeeding. But why the second coin? Jim didn't know that man. As Blair continued to think on it, his anger began to build. Jim had been through so much. The older man didn't deal well with his past, repressing much of it, including the tragic mission to Peru. Now, some _person_ was apparently going to wage a psychological war with James Ellison. Blair was determined not to let his partner, his Sentinel, be lost to it. He would do whatever he could, whatever it took to help his friend. 
> 
> Jim straightened, and Blair loosened his grip. "Chief?" Jim gently tapped his leg, and he looked up into questioning blue eyes. "What is it? Your heart's pounding like a trip hammer." 
> 
> "This." Blair waved toward the offending coin. "I'm so mad. If this is someone's idea of an April Fool's joke, it's _not_ funny! Who's doing this? Why are they tormenting you? I'm not going to let them get away with this. We're gonna find whoever this is and...and...." 
> 
> "Easy, Chief, easy. Calm down." 
> 
> Blair inhaled deeply, closing his eyes long enough to center himself. Opening them, he realized Jim was smiling at him. "Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away. It's just--It's just that...." 
> 
> "It's all right, buddy. I understand. I agree, the joke's not funny, but like you said, we're gonna figure this out." Jim switched the beer bottle to his other hand, and gave Blair's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Hesitantly, he said, "Thanks for coming home. I know you had intended to stay late." 
> 
> "Not a problem, man. You needed me." 
> 
> Ellison simply smiled, then patted Blair's shoulder and got to his feet. "If you want, why don't you see if you can find a game or something? I'm gonna go hit the can, then change clothes." 
> 
> Blair nodded, noticing Jim still had the coin. He watched as the big man deposited the empty bottle in the kitchen, and headed into the bathroom. Blair turned around and picked the remote up off the coffee table. Once he located the game, he went to the fridge and pulled out two more beers. When Jim rejoined him on the couch, the coin was nowhere in evidence. Blair assumed it had been tucked away with the others. A sudden thought occurred to him. "Jim, did you check the coins for fingerprints?" Blair felt the detective stiffen, and saw his jaw clench. Slowly, Jim's eyes turned to meet Blair's. 
> 
> "No," Ellison whispered, obviously stunned by his oversight. 
> 
> Blair swallowed. "Uh, we messed up, didn't we?" 
> 
> Jim nodded stiffly, rubbing a hand over his face. "Damn." 
> 
> There was silence for a long moment. Blair finally shrugged. "Well, unfortunately, there will probably be another one in the near future." 
> 
> The detective grimaced, but nodded in agreement. Resolutely he turned his attention to the game, and Blair followed suit. 
> 
> Blair came awake with a start. He lay silent for a moment, trying to figure out what had awakened him. Finally, he heard the faint creak of floorboards, and Jim's gasping breaths. Even as he strained his ears, the gasping stopped. He debated whether or not he should go see what was wrong, but something told him no, so he let Jim have his privacy. 
> 
> He lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, listening for his friend's movements. Eventually, Blair heard the soft rustle of sheets, and the sound of a body lying back down. He didn't take his eyes off the ceiling. Finally, when Blair guessed his friend had gone back to sleep, he relaxed. With a quiet sigh, he rolled over. 
> 
> The next thing Blair heard was his alarm going off and the sound of the shower. With a groan he slapped the switch and sat up. Elbows on knees, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When he heard the water shut off he levered himself to his feet and began rummaging for clothes to wear. 
> 
> "Morning, Chief. Your turn," his roommate called. 
> 
> "Thanks." Blair emerged from his room and shuffled into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, showered, shaved, and dressed, he joined Jim at the table. Blair reached for the coffee and took a sip, closing his eyes in appreciation. Setting the cup down, he dug into the plate of eggs before him. 
> 
> They ate quietly for a while, content in each other's company. Blair finished his eggs and picked up his coffee again, looking at Jim. He noted the fatigue in the blue eyes and faint lines of tension in the face. The older man met his gaze quizzically. "What?" 
> 
> Blair shrugged. "Nothing, man. You just look a little ragged this morning. Trouble sleeping?" 
> 
> Reluctantly, the detective nodded. "Bad dream. It kept me up for a while." 
> 
> Before Blair could question him, Jim held up a hand. "I don't want to get into it now, okay? It was just a dream." 
> 
> Blair could see the unvoiced plea in Jim's blue eyes, and the stubborn set to his jaw. That alone told him there was more to it, but for the time being he'd abide by Jim's wishes. He nodded agreement, and saw his friend relax. "You'd tell me, if there was something really wrong, wouldn't you?" 
> 
> Jim lowered his coffee mug, and met Blair's gaze. "Yes, Blair. I would, and I will. I remember our promise, Chief. No more trying to protect each other from our inner demons. From now on we discuss things that could be potential threats to 'us'." 
> 
> Blair relaxed, smiling. "All right, then." 
> 
> Jim returned the smile, and reached over to ruffle Blair's hair. 
> 
> The younger man ducked. "Ah, man, not the hair." He swatted at Jim's hand. 
> 
> Chuckling, the big man got up from the table and carried his plate to the kitchen. With a grin, Blair followed suit. After the few breakfast dishes were done, the two men grabbed their jackets and left the loft. 

**April 10, Saturday**

> The phone rang. With a groan, Blair unburied his head from under the covers. 7:00 AM. It was supposed to be their day off. Only one person would knowingly call this early and risk the Sentinel's ire. The phone rang again. This time he reached for the handset on his night table. 
> 
> "'ello?" 
> 
> "Sandburg?" 
> 
> "Morning, Simon. What's up?" 
> 
> "I need to speak to your partner. Murder's getting a jump start on the weekend." 
> 
> "Okay. I think he's in the shower. I'll get him." 
> 
> "I'm right here, Chief." 
> 
> Blair looked blearily at the towel-wrapped figure standing in his doorway, and held the phone out to him. "Simon." 
> 
> While Jim talked to the captain, Blair levered himself out of bed and propelled himself toward the bathroom. Jim swatted him playfully on the rear on his way by. Blair stifled a yelp of surprise, and slapped in the general direction of the Sentinel's arm. He heard a quiet chuckle follow him into the bathroom. 
> 
> Blair emerged feeling more human. Scooting into his room, he quickly dressed, then joined his partner in the kitchen. 
> 
> "Morning, Jim. What'd Simon have?" 
> 
> "Morning, Chief. We just have time for a donut and bagel. A body's been discovered in a dumpster behind the steam plant. Simon wants us to check it out. From the sounds of it, it isn't pretty." 
> 
> Blair arched an eyebrow. "Is any murder?" 
> 
> Jim shrugged. 
> 
> When they arrived, Rafe, Brown, and a forensics team were already there. Two uniforms were still in the process of putting up yellow tape. Blair got out of the Ford and followed his partner. Abruptly, Jim stopped, halting Blair with a hand placed on his chest. "Chief, it's going to be ugly." 
> 
> Blair looked up questioningly, and saw the older man's pinched face and convulsive swallowing. The Guide fastened a hand to his Sentinel's arm. "Jim, dial it back. If you can't filter out whatever it is, dial it back until you can barely detect it. You can do it." 
> 
> Several seconds passed. Blair watched as Jim took a tentative breath, then relaxed. Blair relaxed as well. "Thanks, Chief." 
> 
> The younger man simply shrugged. "What is it?" 
> 
> Jim grimaced, reluctant to answer. "Burnt flesh. The corpse has been burned." 
> 
> Blair paled. "Oh, man." 
> 
> His partner nodded, patting him on the back. Wordlessly they resumed their walk across the lot. 
> 
> Rafe met them halfway. "Hi guys. Lovely way to spend a beautiful Saturday, huh?" "Yeah," Blair murmured. The younger detective gave him a sympathetic look before turning to Jim. "All we've been able to determine so far is that the victim is male. It appears his throat was slit, then his body was put in the dumpster and ignited." 
> 
> Jim nodded in acknowledgement as they reached the dumpster. Blair hung back, willing to put off viewing the body as long as possible. The stench alone was turning his stomach, and he wondered how far Jim had his smell dial turned down. As the Sentinel peered into the trash container, Blair kept a close eye on him. After a moment, Jim glanced significantly at Blair. He swallowed, and nodded, understanding that his partner was preparing to examine the body more closely. "Frank, you get pictures of this yet?" When the forensics photographer nodded, the detective climbed into the dumpster. Blair moved closer, still avoiding looking inside. He started up a sentinel-soft monologue to help guide his friend through the grisly task and keep the Sentinel from focusing too much on one sense. 
> 
> "The body burned for quite a while, though not long enough to erase the fact that the victim was human, and male. The fingers and toes are charred. It's going to be difficult getting prints lifted from them." Jim's voice sounded hollow coming from the metal container. Blair risked a look inside, and regretted it. He took a deep, ragged breath, and forced himself under control. Jim shot him an appraising look. The younger man simply shrugged. Several minutes later, the detective emerged from the dumpster. His face was set in stone. Not even the bulging jaw muscles moved. 
> 
> "The throat was definitely slit," Jim said to the others. "Whoever it was, knew what they were doing. They sliced both carotids, and the wind pipe. The guy died in seconds." 
> 
> Rafe and Brown nodded. 
> 
> "It doesn't appear that he had any ID on him. I didn't find any evidence of a wallet or anything." Jim gripped Blair by the shoulder and gently steered him away from the side of the dumpster. "Who found the body?" 
> 
> "A Joe Hanson. He works the morning shift," Brown answered. "Said he noticed an awful stench coming from the dumpster, and came to check it out. Poor guy. He didn't expect this." 
> 
> Jim's jaw muscle danced as he nodded. "Any witnesses?" 
> 
> "We haven't found any so far. The last shift goes home at midnight, and the first shift comes in at six," Rafe supplied. 
> 
> Ellison turned, surveying the surrounding area. The steam plant, a tool and die maker, and a heavy machinist shop were the only inhabitants of this nearly forgotten block of the city. Blair could sense his partner's frustration over the lack of clues. 
> 
> "Did you get Hanson's statement?" Jim asked, moving back to examine the trash container itself. Blair moved with him. 
> 
> "Yeah, Rafe took it. Hanson's promised to come to the station after his shift to sign it." 
> 
> Jim acknowledged this, then turned his full attention to the dumpster. Blair watched, staying quiet, offering sentinel-soft advice when he thought his friend was concentrating too hard. "Anything?" he asked softly, when the Sentinel finished. A slight shake of the head was the only answer. 
> 
> The detective directed the forensics photographer on what further pictures he wanted, then turned back to the others. "Well, it looks like we've got all we're going to get from here at the moment. We'll see you guys later." 
> 
> When they reached the truck, Jim stopped. Blair gave his partner a puzzled look. The big man's hand came up to cup Blair's neck. "Chief, you gonna be okay?" 
> 
> Blair waved a hand, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Let's detour to Legion Park on the way to the station, okay?" 
> 
> "Why?" 
> 
> "Just trust me on this, please?" Blair wasn't above using his large, expressive eyes on Jim, and he used them to full advantage now. 
> 
> "All right. We'll go by the park." Jim gave Blair a mildly irritated glare, then moved to the driver's side and climbed in. Blair quickly scrambled in the other side. 
> 
> The younger man fidgeted nervously the whole way, but refused to answer Jim's questions with more than a "Later." Or "You'll see." Once they reached the park, Blair practically exploded from the truck. "C'mon," he ordered, striding off to a stand of evergreens. Jim followed. 
> 
> "Sandburg! What the hell are you doing?" 
> 
> Blair turned around to face Jim, his expression serious. "Okay, Jim. Close your eyes." He dropped his voice into Guide mode. 
> 
> "Sandburg." 
> 
> "Jim--close your eyes." With an exasperated noise Jim did as asked. "Okay. See the dial for your sense of smell. What's it turned to?" 
> 
> "One." 
> 
> "Turn it up to four and breathe deeply through your nose." Blair followed his own directions as he watched the Sentinel closely. After each breath, Jim's face relaxed a little further. "What do you smell, Jim?" 
> 
> "Trees. Grass. Flowers. Water...." Jim opened his eyes and stared incredulously at Blair. "How did you know?" 
> 
> Blair grinned, rocking on his toes. "I'm your Guide, I'm supposed to know these things." He chuckled at Jim's rolled eyes. "Seriously, all I could smell was-- _that_ , and all I could think about was drowning it out with something else. Then I thought how much worse it probably was for you, knowing your reaction when we got there. I took one look at your stone face, and figured that even though you probably had the dial set to near zero, some of it must still be getting to you. Knowing what I needed, knowing what you needed, I decided woods would do the trick. So--here we are." Blair gestured around them. 
> 
> Jim gave him a wry smile. "Thanks, Chief." 
> 
> "Not a problem." 
> 
> "My Guide once again watching out for his Sentinel," Jim said, only half teasing. He clapped a hand on Blair's shoulder and steered him back to the truck. 
> 
> "Hey, it's in the job description, man," Blair quipped. 
> 
> They shared a laugh, the Guide feeling very pleased with himself. The rest of the ride to the station was made in a considerably lighter mood. When they arrived, Jim went to fill the captain in while Blair sat down at Jim's desk and started pulling the paperwork for a new case file. The overall mood held for the rest of the morning. The forensics photos arrived in a manila folder around noon. Jim opted to go get some lunch before looking over the pictures, and Blair was more than happy to join him. 
> 
> The rest of the afternoon was spent studying the crime scene photos, and going over the forensics and medical examiner's preliminary reports. Blair looked at one of the less gruesome pictures. With sadness, he realized any hope they had of solving this case rested with the one legible print they'd managed to lift from the victim's burned fingers. If and when they could find out the man's identity, they might determine motive. Until then, there were no clues to follow. Blair knew Jim hated cases like this. He hated the ones that demanded time pass before divulging even a hint of a clue. He didn't blame his partner. Blair wondered about any family the victim might have, what they must be feeling, not knowing. As long as their John Doe remained a John Doe, any family would remain in the dark about their loved one's disappearance. 
> 
> "C'mon, Chief. Time to pack up and go home." Jim's voice startled Blair out of his reverie and he looked up to see the detective already standing. Blair quickly shoved the pictures back in their envelope, put the file away, and stood up. He reached for the jacket Jim was holding out to him. 
> 
> "Thanks, Jim," he mumbled around a large yawn. 
> 
> Ellison just smiled, and gently guided Blair out of the bullpen with a hand to his back. "Why don't we go to that Italian place over on Third?" 
> 
> "Sounds good to me, man." 
> 
> Fed, happy, and content, the two men entered the ground floor of their building. Blair was regaling his partner with a feasting ritual of some tribe he'd once studied in a remote jungle in South America. 
> 
> "Dammit!" 
> 
> Blair stopped mid-sentence, eyes darting to the handful of mail Jim had just pulled from the box. He groaned when he spied the square, white cardboard mailer. Jim shot Blair an angry glance, and stepped onto the elevator. The younger man quickly followed. Blair worried at his bottom lip as he watched his friend's expression grow more and more remote. 
> 
> Wordlessly they stepped out of the elevator and to their door. Upon entering the loft, Jim shrugged out of his coat and stalked to the table. After hanging up his own jacket, Blair turned the light on in the living room, then returned to Jim's side. He wasn't sure if the knot of apprehension he felt in his stomach was for what was in the package or for his partner's reaction to it. Shoving the anxiety down, Blair moved closer to his friend and laid a comforting hand on the Sentinel's back. He watched silently as Jim carefully picked up the mailer, opened it, and dumped the contents into an evidence bag he'd pulled from his jacket. The Guide held his breath as he waited for Jim to bring the coin closer for inspection. A few moments later, Blair felt the muscles under his hand relax slightly, and knew this wasn't one of Jim's team. In the next instant the big man slammed the coin on the table and spun away. Quick, long strides took the Sentinel to the balcony doors, where he stopped and stared out over his city. 
> 
> "Jim?" Blair looked from his friend to the table, back to his friend. When no answer was forthcoming, Blair looked back at the table and picked up the plastic bag. Maybe he had been wrong. Squinting, he read the name: P. Morrow, SFC. It wasn't one of the men from Jim's team. After the last coin, Blair had pulled the "News Update" article from among the early research material he had on the Sentinel, and re-read the story, memorizing the names of Jim's men. As if to confirm his knowledge, Jim spoke from the balcony doors. 
> 
> "He wasn't one of my men, Chief. I don't know any Morrow." 
> 
> Blair set the coin back on the table. Turning around, he gazed at his friend, who was now leaning against the side of the window, arms crossed. "So, now we have two you know, and two you don't." 
> 
> "Yeah." In a fit of frustration, Jim hit the brick wall with the flat of his hand. Blair winced, hoping the Sentinel had remembered to turn down his touch dial before getting so physical with the wall. He went to his partner. 
> 
> "Is there any kind of pattern you can see?" 
> 
> "No, damnit. Don't you think I've tried?" 
> 
> "Relax, Jim. It's all right. We'll figure this out." Blair gripped the Sentinel's shoulder. 
> 
> Jim sighed, giving Blair a faint smile. "Yeah, I know. But this is beginning to frustrate the hell out of me." 
> 
> "I know," Blair answered. "So, what _do_ we know? Hickman and Hill were on your team. Johnson and now Morrow were not. All of you were in the same unit. Could Johnson and Morrow have been in with you at the same time?" 
> 
> Ellison shrugged. "It's possible. The Seventh also has a station in Central America. You know, there's something else that's been bothering me about all this. I can't quite put my finger on it, though." 
> 
> "Something to do with the coins themselves? Do you think you know Johnson or Morrow after all?" Blair's voice went into Guide mode, and the Sentinel automatically responded to it. 
> 
> The big man shook his head. "I don't think so. It's something to do with the coins' arrival. The timing seems odd somehow." 
> 
> "Okay...let's see. I remember Hill's coin arrived on April first, because I thought it was someone's idea of a poor joke, remember?" Jim nodded. "Just a minute...." Blair rushed to his room and returned with one of his personal journals. Jim looked at him quizzically, but the younger man held up a hand, before starting to flip pages. "Here it is. The first coin showed up on March fifteenth. That's the same day two of my grant approvals came through." 
> 
> "Okay." 
> 
> Blair flipped a few more pages. "Johnson's coin came March twenty-third." More pages were turned. "Yeah, Hill's coin came April first, nine days ago." Blair looked up from the journal, but Jim was staring out over the city again. 
> 
> "Except for the first coin they've been nine days apart," the big man said quietly. "I'm still missing something." 
> 
> Blair thought for a moment, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. When Jim suddenly turned to stare at him, he realized his heart had picked up speed. "Uh, the fifteenth was a Monday. What if Hickman's coin had actually arrived a day earlier--on the fourteenth. That would put nine days between the first and second coins." 
> 
> "Okay. So?" 
> 
> Blair took a deep breath. "Think about it. Pair them up, and it adds up to eighteen days." Jim's confused look didn't change. "Eighteen days--eighteen months?" Blair ventured uncertainly. 
> 
> The big man's confusion turned to dismay, and he closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them. "Beginning with the anniversary of the crash. You think they're linked somehow?" 
> 
> "Well, look how they've been delivered. First a man from your team, then someone you don't know, then another man from your team, now another one you don't know. Seems to me they've got to be linked in some way." 
> 
> Jim nodded. "It makes sense, and I'm somehow the linchpin. The question now is, how are they linked?" 
> 
> "Hey, man, I can't think of everything," Blair teased. His friend smiled, reaching out to ruffle Blair's hair. 
> 
> "Is that so? Well, I guess it's a good thing I'm a detective, huh?" 
> 
> "Yep." 
> 
> Jim actually chuckled a little at this. "I'm gonna have a beer, how 'bout you?" 
> 
> Blair nodded. "Sounds good." While Jim retrieved the beers, the anthropologist put away his journal. They settled on the couch to watch an inane comedy on AMC. 
> 
> "Jim, are you going to tell Simon about the coins?" Blair inquired a long time later. 
> 
> The older man sighed. "I don't know. When it was a one or two shot thing, I wasn't. I didn't see any need. But now--I don't know." 
> 
> "He's your friend too, I think you should tell him. He'd like to know about this." 
> 
> "You're probably right, Chief. We'll see." 
> 
> "Okay." Blair yawned. Rubbing a hand over his face, he said, "I'm goin' to bed. Night, Jim." 
> 
> "Night, Chief." 
> 
> Blair stood, and went first to the bathroom. When he came out, and headed for his room, Jim spoke again. 
> 
> "Chief?" 
> 
> He looked back at his friend. 
> 
> "Thanks. For everything today." 
> 
> Blair smiled, waved, and disappeared inside his room. 

* * *


	3. Silver Clound, Dark Lining - Part 2

* * *

> After the events of the previous day, Sunday turned out to be quiet and relaxing. Jim watched the ball games, and Blair spent some quality time on his dissertation. 
> 
> They got to the station at nine Monday morning. Blair went to get them both some coffee. When he returned Jim was already on the phone. He heard his friend ask for a Colonel Duffy as he sat down in the chair next to the desk, placing one of the mugs in front of Jim. Blair waited silently, listening and watching intently as he sipped his coffee. It intrigued him to see Jim unconsciously square his shoulders and sit straighter when the colonel came on the line. 
> 
> "Hello, sir. Jim Ellison." 
> 
> The detective hung up nearly thirty minutes later with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk as he rubbed his temples. 
> 
> "Do your breathing, Jim. Relax, and let the tension flow out of you." Blair's voice was sentinel-soft, and had the desired effect on his friend. 
> 
> Jim cast him a tiny smile, relaxing back in his chair. "Paul Morrow, age fifty-three. He retired three years ago. He was a medical officer." 
> 
> Blair blew out a breath. "Same as Hill." 
> 
> Jim nodded once, toying with a pencil. "Hickman and Johnson had the same MOS. Now it turns out Hill and Morrow did too. I'm getting a really bad feeling about this, Chief. I know I'm missing something here, but I don't know what it is. Dammit!" 
> 
> "We'll figure it out, Jim. We always do." 
> 
> "Yeah, we've been telling ourselves that for weeks." Jim sighed. 
> 
> "Jim? What's M.O.S. stand for?" 
> 
> The older man's lips quirked a bit. "Military Occupational Specialty." 
> 
> "Ah. So what was your M.O.S.?" 
> 
> "Detachment Commander," Jim replied off-handedly. "Let's get some of this paperwork cleared off my desk before any more piles up." 
> 
> Blair smiled and set to work. His mind continued to mull over the problem of the coins. 

**April 19, Monday**

> The ninth day from the last coin delivery dawned with one very tense and grouchy Sentinel. As the week had progressed, Blair had noticed Jim becoming more and more uptight, almost like when he'd first met the detective. Knowing the reason for his friend's growing unease, Blair had put extra effort into keeping his Sentinel relaxed. Apparently he wasn't the only one to notice Jim's testiness. The anthropologist had observed some of the other detectives beginning to act like they were walking on egg shells around Jim. Blair hadn't blamed them. In a way, they were. 
> 
> Blair's anxiety had increased as the next delivery date approached. If the pattern held, the next coin would belong to one of Jim's men, and he worried about his partner's reaction. Fortunately, their workload remained steady, providing a necessary distraction. When they were working a case, Jim could focus on it instead of the puzzle of the coins. 
> 
> Blair was certain the only reason Jim hadn't snapped was the fact that they'd gotten an ID on their John Doe. His name was John Haley, age fifty-six. When the identification came in, it matched a Missing Persons report filed by the victim's wife a day after the murder. With resignation, the two men went to see Mrs. Haley. 
> 
> "God, I hate this," Blair said softly, staring out the window of the truck at the modest two-story home they'd come to visit. 
> 
> Jim nodded. "Yeah." He got out of the truck, and Blair quickly followed. As the two men walked up the sidewalk, Blair noticed his partner automatically surveying the area. 
> 
> The door opened before Jim could knock. A pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman with graying brown hair and hazel eyes greeted them. "You're the police, aren't you?" 
> 
> Jim took out his badge and showed it to her. "Yes, ma'am. Detective Ellison. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg," 
> 
> "You've found John, haven't you? He's dead, isn't he?" 
> 
> Blair was sure his eyes reflected as much pain as Jim's did. "Yes, ma'am." The woman's calm cracked a little with this confirmation, tears filling her eyes. "Please, may we come in?" Jim asked. 
> 
> Silently, Mrs. Haley nodded, and opened the door wider, admitting the two men. She led them to the living room, where she mutely offered them a seat, and sat down on the sofa. "WWhat happened?" 
> 
> Jim sat down on the edge of a cushioned chair, turning to face Mrs. Haley. Blair stood beside his partner. "Mrs. Haley, I'm sorry. This isn't going to be pleasant." Jim paused. "Your husband's body was found nine days ago." 
> 
> "Nine days! What?" 
> 
> "His body wasn't identified until this morning," Blair supplied quietly. The woman looked up at him in confusion. 
> 
> "This morning?" 
> 
> Jim bowed his head for a moment, then looked back up at her. "Nine days ago, your husband's body was found in a dumpster behind the steam plant. He'd been murdered." Jim swallowed. "The reason it took so long to identify him--is because the body had been burned." 
> 
> Mrs. Haley gasped. "Oh, dear Lord in Heaven! I saw something about that on the news." She shook with the effort to control the tears that wanted to break loose. 
> 
> Without hesitation, Blair sat down beside her. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Haley. Can I get you a glass of water or something?" When the woman nodded, he leapt to his feet and quickly located the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a tall glass, handing it to Mrs. Haley. He realized Jim had waited for him before saying what he had to next. Blair flashed his partner a grateful smile, and sat down beside the grief-stricken woman. 
> 
> "Mrs. Haley, I need to ask you a few questions," Jim said quietly. 
> 
> She nodded. "I figured you did. Go ahead and ask, Detective." 
> 
> "Did your husband have any enemies that you were aware of? Any personal problems that could have gotten him in trouble?" 
> 
> Mrs. Haley smiled a little. "If you're wondering if he had any vices like gambling, the answer is no. John didn't gamble. He played poker with some friends once in a while, but he didn't even buy lottery tickets. As for enemies, the construction business is very competitive, but as far as I know, John has never made any enemies from it. He was a good man, stern, but fair. As far as I know, everybody liked and respected him." 
> 
> "You mentioned construction business?" 
> 
> "Yes, we own Haley Construction. It's a small business. We've only had it about five years." 
> 
> "Are there any partners involved? Any financial difficulty that you're aware of?" 
> 
> "Only one partner, John's brother Frank. He's a banker. I handle the books. The first three years were very lean, but the past couple have been steadily improving. We made it into the black last year, and so far it's stayed there." 
> 
> "Okay. Can you give me your brother-in-law's phone number and place of employment, and a list of your employees and their numbers? We need to talk to everybody your husband might have had contact with." 
> 
> Mrs. Haley nodded, and got to her feet. Several minutes later she returned from the office across the hall with a computer printout. "This is our employee roster. Their names, addresses, and phone numbers are in here. This is Frank's business card." 
> 
> Jim took the offered information. "Thank you. How about the friends he played poker with?" 
> 
> Again, Mrs. Haley disappeared briefly, coming back with a list of names and addresses. By now Jim and Blair were standing. Jim accepted the additional piece of paper with a quiet thank you, and they prepared to leave. 
> 
> "Mrs. Haley, is there anyone we could call for you?" Blair asked, reluctant to leave the woman alone with her grief. 
> 
> "Thank you, Mr. Sandburg, that won't be necessary. I have a sister in town. I'll call her." 
> 
> Blair smiled, then with another quiet thanks for her help, followed his partner out the door. 
> 
> The rest of the afternoon was spent tracking down and questioning the employees of Haley Construction. By day's end, both men were exhausted, but no closer to finding their killer. As they drove home that evening, Blair found himself hoping against hope that there wouldn't be another delivery waiting. It wasn't to be. The moment Jim opened the mail box, both men spotted the familiar cardboard mailer. Blair groaned. Jim said nothing as he extracted their mail from the box and moved toward the elevator. He didn't have to. The stony face and twitching jaw muscles said it all. 
> 
> Once upstairs, Jim stripped off his jacket, hung it up and strode to the table. Blair followed a little more slowly. He wasn't relishing the possible impending reaction. The big man wasted no time opening the package and dumping the contents into the waiting evidence bag. 
> 
> "Whose was it?" Blair asked softly after watching Jim simply stare at the coin for nearly a minute. 
> 
> Jim's eyes flicked to him, then back to the coin. "Ben Sarris." With an audible sigh, the older man tossed the object on the table and walked into the kitchen. "He was my Engineer Sergeant." 
> 
> Blair inclined his head, pursing his lips as he mulled over this information. "Sarris? Why does that name sound familiar?" Absently, he took the beer Jim handed him. 
> 
> "Does the Switchman ring any bells, Chief?" 
> 
> His eyes rounded. "That crazy woman who was blowing up parts of Cascade in a vendetta against you? Veronica, right?" 
> 
> Jim nodded. "That's her. Ben was her father." 
> 
> "Okay, I remember now. That's why Veronica had it in for you. She blamed you for her father's death." Blair cursed himself when he saw Jim's clamped jaw and icy blue eyes. "Jim, man, it _wasn't_ your fault. You couldn't have prevented their deaths! The helicopter was shot down." 
> 
> Jim's stare bored through Blair. "I was responsible for them." 
> 
> The anthropologist wiped a hand over his face in frustration. Setting the beer down, he went to Jim and gripped his friend's arms. Meeting those cold blue eyes, he said, "You were responsible for them, but you _are not_ responsible for their deaths. Whoever shot the helicopter down, or whoever _ordered_ it shot down, is responsible." 
> 
> Jim's gaze melted, though the jaw muscles still twitched. "I know, Chief. I know. But that still doesn't prevent me from feeling like I should've knownsomething." 
> 
> "How, Jim?" he asked reasonably. "Your senses weren't even online then. They didn't come on-line until you were faced with surviving in that isolated jungle, alone. Don't beat yourself up for something you had no way of predicting." 
> 
> Jim tilted his head in reluctant agreement, and Blair dropped his hands. "It was just such a waste," the big man said with disgust, moving toward the balcony doors. 
> 
> "You're right, Jim, it was a waste, and it's good that you remember them, but it's over. It's in the past." 
> 
> Ellison shook his head sharply. "Someone's sure trying their damnedest to make it current." 
> 
> Blair had no answer for this, and shrugged helplessly. Instead, he fell back on a tried and true response. "We'll figure this out, Jim." 
> 
> The older man nodded. "Yeah," he said without much conviction. 
> 
> Blair watched his friend for a long moment, as the Sentinel stared out at his city. Finally, he turned and headed for the kitchen. 
> 
> Dinner was a quiet affair. Jim was mostly silent, but listened as Blair described the latest activities going on at the University. The older man would even ask questions now and then, but the anthropologist was perfectly aware of where his friend's thoughts were. Finally, finished eating, Blair picked up his bottled water and sat back in his chair. He took a drink from the bottle, then idly toyed with the label. "So, can I ask about it?" 
> 
> "Ask about what?" Jim didn't look up, concentrating on finishing his own meal. 
> 
> "About the Army. What you did there. The structure and dynamics of your team." 
> 
> Jim smirked. "Careful, Darwin, this is sounding suspiciously like a Q&A for your dissertation." 
> 
> "Jim, not everything is about my diss." Blair's voice held a touch of hurt. "I thought we were past that. I'm just curious. I don't know much about the Army or your time in it." 
> 
> The older man's hand reached out and gripped Blair's forearm briefly. "I know, buddy. I'm sorry." Jim pushed his plate away and sat back. "I just don't know how much I can tell you. You already know about the crash, and generalities about the mission. Whatever else I can remember, which isn't much, is classified." 
> 
> "I know, Jim. I'm not interested in the crash or Peru right now. I'm more curious about your team." 
> 
> Silence for a long moment. "Okay." Ellison sighed wearily. "What do you want to know?" 
> 
> "Tell me about the dynamics of the team. Each man had his own specialty or responsibility, what were they?" 
> 
> Jim didn't answer right away. Instead he got up and busied himself with clearing the table. Blair could tell his friend was thinking about what to tell him, or how much, so he kept quiet and watched. Finally, the dishes soaking in the sink, leftovers put away, Jim came back to the table and sat down. "Each A-Team actually consists of twelve men." 
> 
> "A-Team? Sounds like a TV show." 
> 
> Jim chuckled a little. "Detachment Alpha, otherwise known as A-Team." 
> 
> "Is there a B-Team and C-Team, too?" Blair couldn't resist asking. To his surprise, Jim nodded. 
> 
> "B-Team is a support team. You could call them the information coordinators, I guess. They're never on the front lines." 
> 
> "Okay, so tell me about A-Team." 
> 
> Jim smiled faintly. "Well, there are five specialties. The Communications Sergeant handles all electronic communications. The Medical Sergeant is just shy of a full M.D. He's up on the latest field medical technology and limited surgical procedures. The Engineer is the explosives expert. It's his job to destroy targets and build buildings and bridges. The Weapons Sergeant is obviously the weapons expert. He has to know how to use most weapons, American and foreign. Finally there's the Operations and Intelligence officer. He develops operations and intel for the missions. It's his responsibility to advise the commander on the best way to employ the information gathered. Four of those five have assistants. The O&I man is basically an assistant to the Team Sergeant. Then there's the XO, and finally the Detachment Commander. Twelve men in all." 
> 
> Blair digested this for a moment. "XO stands for Executive Officer, right?" 
> 
> Jim nodded. "He's the second in command, and usually has the most knowledge and experience. Everyone is cross-trained in at least one of the other specialties so the team won't be crippled by a loss. With each specialty having an assistant and each specialty cross-trained in at least one other field, it makes for an incredibly versatile team." 
> 
> "That makes sense, but if an A-Team actually consists of twelve men, why did your mission only have eight?" Blair could have slapped himself when he saw the pain in Jim's eyes. 
> 
> "On rare occasions special missions are put together, sometimes with as few as three members. It depends on the mission and what's required. A team of eight was supposedly all that was required for Peru. And truthfully, twelve men for that mission would have been unnecessary. At least four men were spared that crash." Jim fell silent, idly tracing the imperfections only he could feel on the tabletop. 
> 
> "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to make you dredge all that up again." 
> 
> Jim shrugged. "You didn't, Chief. Those coins are doing a fair job of that all on their own." He stood up, moving toward the kitchen. "God, I wish I knew who was doing this, though." 
> 
> Blair watched him for a moment, then murmuring a soft, "Yeah, me too," he got up and joined his friend in the final clean up. 
> 
> _"We're approaching drop zone, sir."_
> 
> _He nodded and signaled his men to get ready for the rappel from the chopper. The ropes were dropped. Harnesses, equipment, and hardware were checked, and one by one his men signaled their readiness. The hairs on the nape of his neck prickled. He turned to look out the open side of the helicopter. Above the noise of the engines and the whirring of rotor blades, he heard a whistling sound. Within seconds he had the sound identified, but it was too late. In helpless horror he watched as the streaking missile found its target. The ship shuddered under the explosion. For a suspended moment the helicopter seemed to hover in the air, before beginning its plummet toward earth. Thick, black smoke filling the cabin._
> 
> _"We're goin' down!"_
> 
> Jim sat up, gasping. His heart was pounding, and sweat drenched his face. With one last gulping inhalation he closed his mouth and forced the air out through his nose. It helped. His heart and respiration were already beginning to slow back to normal. He rubbed a hand over his face as he drew his knees up, and with a sigh, leaned his forehead against them. He closed his eyes, and immediately opened them again. The images were still there. Sharp. Crystal clear. Sharper than they'd ever been. This was just like the dream he'd had several weeks ago, only with more horrifying detail. Until now, he hadn't remembered actually seeing the instant the missile hit.
> 
> After several long minutes, Jim lay back down, the images receding. He hoped he could go back to sleep, but he wasn't counting on it. Almost without conscious thought, he reached out his hearing, and found his Guide's steady heartbeat. He tuned in to that soothing, familiar sound. Several minutes later, a restless sleep reclaimed him. 
> 
> _"Sarris! Hold on, buddy."_
> 
> _"It's too late for me, sir."_
> 
> _Jim clenched his jaw, knowing it was true. The Engineer was losing a lot of blood, fast. There was nothing he could do but continue to press the gauze against Sarris' side. Most of the medical supplies had been destroyed in the crash. The smell of blood, oil, and fuel filled the air. The mingled scents threatened to overwhelm him, and he swallowed hard against the sudden nausea._
> 
> _"Complete the mission, Captain." Sergeant Sarris' brown eyes slowly closed, and he breathed his last._
> 
> _Ellison could only stare at the now lifeless figure. "Complete the mission, Captain. Complete the mission, Captain. Complete the mission."_
> 
> Jim opened his eyes, Ben Sarris' final words echoing in his mind. He wiped a hand across his face, trying to dispel the haunting images. Sarris hadn't been the last man to die, but he had been the last one able to speak. Jim closed his eyes, cupping his hand over them as he took a slow, deep breath, and let it out. Several seconds passed. Finally dropping his hand, Jim glanced at the clock. 6:12 AM. With a sigh, he sat up, deciding it wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep. 
> 
> Blair shuffled out of his room, intent on heading to the bathroom for a shower. He stopped when he noticed his Sentinel standing watch by the balcony doors. _Uh-oh._ "Jim?" 
> 
> The other man turned his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Morning, Chief. Go ahead and grab a shower, I'll fix breakfast." 
> 
> Blair didn't say anything for a long moment, simply watching his friend with a growing sense of concern. "Okay," he said finally, deciding to let the matter alone until he was more awake. 
> 
> His algae shake, eggs, and toast were waiting for him when he ultimately emerged from his room. Jim was looking over the paper while he drank his coffee, a plate of barely touched eggs in front him. "All right, Jim, what is it?" 
> 
> The older man glanced up, but quickly turned his attention back to the paper. "What's what?" 
> 
> Blair took a seat, but only leaned his elbows on the table to look at Jim. "Come on, man, don't play dumb," he admonished quietly. "I find you standing sentinel at the balcony, you fix my algae shake, you've hardly tasted your food, and to top it off, you look ragged this morning. So what is it?" 
> 
> A tiny smile twitched the corner of Jim's mouth, but it quickly faded. "I had some bad dreams last night. I didn't get much sleep, and I guess I'm still thinking about them." 
> 
> Blair pursed his lips, studying his friend. "About Peru," he said knowingly. He knew he was right when he saw the jaw muscles flex. Silently, he began eating, knowing Jim would talk about it when he was ready. He didn't have long to wait. 
> 
> "Yeah," Jim confirmed. "One was the same as the one I had a few weeks ago, only even more detailed." 
> 
> "What was it about?" Blair interrupted softly, sensing he was on the verge of learning something new. The older man stared into his coffee mug for a moment. 
> 
> "The crash. Actually, it was just before the chopper went down." 
> 
> Blair remained quiet, though he felt his excitement rising. When Jim gave him a rueful smile, he knew the Sentinel had picked up the thrum of his nerves. "Hey, man, I'm sorry. I can't help it. I get the feeling you're about to tell me something I haven't heard before." He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Jim's arm. "This was more than a nightmare, wasn't it? You're remembering something." 
> 
> Jim nodded. "I heard one of the missiles, and saw it hit." 
> 
> Blair was stunned. "You saw it?" 
> 
> "The one that hit the rotor. Another went right through the cockpit." 
> 
> He stared at the Sentinel. He hadn't expected a revelation like this. Eventually he found his voice. "No wonder you've repressed most of that. I can't imagine what you must've felt." 
> 
> Jim gave him a faint smile, nodding in agreement. 
> 
> "What else do you remember?" 
> 
> The older man sighed, moving to pour himself more coffee. Blair watched, shaking his head when Jim held up the pot. "Ben died from a hemorrhaging spleen. There was nothing I could do." 
> 
> "Ben? Veronica's father?" 
> 
> "Yeah. He took a piece of shrapnel in the side. I tried to stop the bleeding, but we both knew it was useless." 
> 
> "Wait a minute. He was alive?" 
> 
> Jim gave him a puzzled look. "Yeah." 
> 
> Blair realized what he'd said, and felt the heat rise in his face. He lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry. I thought they'd all died in the crash." 
> 
> "It's all right, Chief. It was a reasonable assumption," Jim said quietly. "The fact is, the chopper was only about fifty feet in the air, so it didn't have all that far to fall. When I came to, four men were dead, and three others were critically injured. There was nothing left of the pilot." 
> 
> Blair waited for Jim to say more. When his friend didn't, he asked, "What about you?" 
> 
> The big man grimaced. "Somehow I came out of it with nothing more than a few cuts and a major headache." 
> 
> "And you're still blaming yourself for what happened." The statement was made without accusation. 
> 
> Jim met his gaze reluctantly. His jaw muscles twitched as he nodded slightly in agreement. Blair put a hand on his Sentinel's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Do you think your men would blame you? Do you think even one of them knew or thought they were being set up?" 
> 
> "No." 
> 
> "Then you shouldn't either. Jim, you were meant to die in that crash too, remember? Why you didn't, only a higher power can answer, but I have a theory." 
> 
> Jim smirked, getting up and beginning to clear the table. "A theory, huh? Do I want to hear this?" 
> 
> Blair stood and carried his own dishes to the kitchen. "Yeah. You said you heard one of the missiles. Did the others hear it too?" 
> 
> Ellison sighed. "An incoming missile makes a very distinctive sound, Chief. I'm sure they heard it too." 
> 
> The anthropologist waved that answer aside. "Think, Jim. Over the noise of the helicopter, you heard the missile. Did the others hear it then too, or did it take a few seconds?" 
> 
> Jim stopped what he was doing, turning his gaze inward. "Uh, I remember feeling my skin prickle. I thought I heard this sound, and looked out. It took me a moment to identify it. By the time I figured out what it was, the others were hearing it too, but it was too late." 
> 
> Blair knew his eyes probably shone with the excitement he could hardly contain, but his voice was serious and sincere. "I think your senses were starting to come online then. Not all at once, and definitely not overwhelmingly. Your instincts were probably kicking in, kind of like an early warning system." 
> 
> The big man made a disgusted noise. "My instincts, huh? Well, we know where my instincts lead me, don't we?" 
> 
> "Only when you try to force them down the wrong path, or try to ignore them altogether, Jim." The curly-headed man saw his friend flinch. "Shit. Jim, I'm not specifically talking about what happened last year. I'm talking about all the times your senses or your instincts have warned you something was wrong, but you've dismissed them until almost too late. Lila comes to mind." He saw Jim stiffen, and he added softly, "I know, Jim. That was a low blow, but it's a good example. You had those sensory spikes because your instincts were trying to tell you something wasn't right." 
> 
> "I wasn't trying to ignore my instincts last year," Jim interrupted quietly. 
> 
> Blair closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. Blowing out a breath he looked up at the Sentinel. "Jim, we've been over that. We were totally out of sync with each other. I accept partial blame for that, just as you do. Alex messed us both up. If you'd told me about your visions, I probably could have helped you interpret them, but likewise, if I'd pushed you more for answers like I usually do, you would have told me. It's over with, done, put to rest. Hopefully we've forged a stronger bond because of it?" Blair knew it was true, but he still sometimes needed affirmation from his partner. 
> 
> Without hesitation Jim strode quickly to him, and gripped Blair's shoulders. "We have, Blair. I have no doubt of that." 
> 
> Blair reached up and squeezed one of Jim's hands, gazing steadfastly into those azure eyes. "I don't either." 
> 
> A slow smile spread across Jim's lips. He nodded and straightened. Backing away a step, he said, "Come on, I think work calls." 
> 
> Blair grinned. Within minutes, they were in the truck, headed for the precinct. 
> 
> The next nine days were a study in endurance for Blair. Recurring nightmares plagued the Sentinel, robbing the big man of sleep, and increasing Blair's concern. Fatigue could be dangerous for anybody, but for a cop it could be downright deadly. Perfectly aware of that fact, Blair stuck closer and closer to his partner when they were out on cases. Despite this, they investigated and solved two murders and a high profile jewelry store robbery. Unfortunately, the Haley investigation stalled. Not one employee or known associate had a motive to kill the man. They couldn't even find a potential suspect among the rival construction firms. The lack of leads only added to Jim's frustration level. 
> 
> For the most part, all Blair could do was try to keep his friend from becoming too agitated, and hope some kind of clue to who was sending the coins would present itself soon. Finally, Blair decided to take matters into his own hands, at least as far as his friend's well-being was concerned. 
> 
> "Jim, I have an idea I want you to let me try." 
> 
> The detective arched an eyebrow. "An idea about?" 
> 
> Blair rolled his eyes in disgust at Jim's tone. "I'm worried about you, Jim. We both know you're not getting enough sleep." 
> 
> "I'm touched, dear," the big man said sarcastically. 
> 
> "Man, I'm serious. You know you can't go on like this." 
> 
> Jim sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked at Blair. "Yeah. I know. What's your idea?" 
> 
> "I want you to let me try to put you into a form of meditation sleep." 
> 
> "Chief--" 
> 
> "What can it hurt, Jim? You need at least one good night's sleep, and if we don't do this, I'm going to bet you won't get any sleep at all tonight, since tomorrow isyou know." Blair overrode Jim's automatic rejection. He'd attempted to get the Sentinel to accept this idea earlier in the week, with no luck. This time, he was determined to win the argument. He was both surprised and worried when Jim nodded his head in acceptance. To Blair, this spoke volumes about how tired his friend was. 
> 
> A couple of hours later Blair settled himself in the lotus position on Jim's bed as his friend got comfortable under the covers. "Okay, Jim. Do your breathing. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let it out slowly." The Sentinel obeyed, instantly falling into a more relaxed state. Blair watched his friend closely as he guided the big man toward releasing all tension in his body. The Guide could almost see each layer of tension fall away as he talked. Forty-five minutes later, the big man was sound asleep. 

**April 28, Wednesday**

> The next thing Blair became aware of was being poked in the ribs. He mumbled and squirmed away from the prodding. A few moments later he felt it again. He realized they were fingers. He opened one sleepy eye and looked right into his Sentinel's amused gaze. 
> 
> "C'mon, Chief, up and at 'em." 
> 
> Blair opened both eyes and stared at the covers under his cheek. Blue. Jim's bed. Blair bolted to a sitting position. "Jim, man, I'm sorry. I must've fallen asleep. Why didn't you kick me out of here?" 
> 
> Ellison chuckled a little as he began to climb out of bed. "Don't worry about it, Sandburg. I didn't even know you were there until I woke up." 
> 
> "Huh? Wait. Does that mean you?" 
> 
> "Slept like a baby, Chief," Jim finished for him. "Not a single nightmare that I can recall. Thanks. Your idea worked." 
> 
> "Great! So you're feeling better?" 
> 
> "Yeah, Chief. I feel more rested than I have in days." 
> 
> "Cool! That's great, man." Sandburg grinned as he virtually vibrated with enthusiasm. 
> 
> Jim smiled again, heading down the stairs. "Uh-huh. Now, you'd better have your lazy butt out of my bed by the time I come back or I'll help you out." 
> 
> "Ooo, sounds kinky," Blair quipped. 
> 
> His friend threw him a mock glare, but couldn't hide the grin stealing over his face. The detective shook his head, and continued toward the bathroom. 
> 
> Still grinning, the Guide bounced to his feet and hurried down the stairs, making a bee-line for the coffeemaker in the kitchen. Once it was brewing, he disappeared inside his own room. Minutes later he took Jim's place in the bathroom while the detective went upstairs to dress. To his surprise Jim had pancakes and sausage ready when he came out. Blair murmured appreciatively, but made no other comment, not wishing to dispel the only peace his Sentinel had managed to attain in over two weeks. 
> 
> The lighter mood held until they reached the station. When they entered the parking garage, Blair could feel Jim's spirits begin to falter. He figured his partner was thinking about the Haley case and its lack of leads. He was trying to think of something to say to bolster both their morales, when Jim looked at him and gave him a small smile. "Come on, Chief. We've got work to do." The detective opened his door and stepped out of the truck. Blair quickly followed. 
> 
> At around 11:00 Blair was thoroughly occupied performing an Internet search, when Captain Banks appeared beside Jim's desk, startling him. 
> 
> "Sandburg. Where's your partner?" 
> 
> "Hey, Simon. He had to go over to the DA's office and give a deposition on the Larson case. He should be back pretty soon." 
> 
> Simon nodded, remembering. "Good. I want to see you in my office for a minute." 
> 
> "Uh, sure, Simon," Blair said uncertainly. 
> 
> He closed down the web browser and got up to follow the captain into his office. He stepped inside ahead of Simon, turning to watch as the bigger man quietly closed the door and hung up his suit coat on the hall tree. 
> 
> "Is there something I should be yelling at you for?" 
> 
> Blair shook his head, though he swallowed nervously. "Uh, no." 
> 
> "Then relax." Simon moved around his desk and sat down. "I want to know what's been going on with Jim lately, and why haven't you told me." 
> 
> "Sir?" 
> 
> "Sandburg," the captain warned, "if there's something going on with Jim's senses, I want to know about it. You've never hesitated to tell me before. Now, out with it." 
> 
> Blair held up his hands defensively, and rushed to explain. "There's nothing wrong with his senses." 
> 
> "Then what is it? And don't play dumb." Simon ordered. "For something like two weeks I've watched a pressure keg known as Jim Ellison building steam, threatening to blow a gasket, and you've been sticking to him like glue. Now, this morning, most of that pressure has either been bled off or diverted. So, which is it?" 
> 
> "You mean Jim hasn't told you?" 
> 
> The captain frowned. "Would we be having this _discussion_ , if he had?" 
> 
> Blair shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It's personal, Simon. I thought he was going to talk to you about it. If he hasn't yet, I." He shrugged helplessly. "It's not my place." 
> 
> "It's not a sentinel thing?" 
> 
> "No, it's not." Jim's voice quietly interrupted them. Simon started, and both men turned to look at Jim, who had entered silently. 
> 
> Simon glared at Sandburg. "Did you know he was there?" 
> 
> Blair smiled slightly, gazing at his Sentinel. "Yeah, Simon. This falls under that category of things you don't want to know." 
> 
> Jim chuckled softly as Simon rolled his eyes. Turning serious, he moved farther into the room and shut the door behind him. "It _is_ personal, Simon, but I had intended to tell you what was going on. It's just that, it's been busy enough around here that there was never an appropriate time." 
> 
> Simon motioned both men to seats and reached for his coffeepot. After they were settled, the captain gazed at his best detective. "So, what's been going on?" 
> 
> Jim looked down into his cup for a moment. Raising his eyes to meet Simon's, he spoke. "Every nine days since the middle of March I've been receiving a little gift in the mail." 
> 
> Simon's lips quirked in amusement. "Have an admirer, huh?" 
> 
> Blair snorted. "One with a decidedly cruel sense of humor, if that's the case." 
> 
> Banks looked at the observer strangely, then back to Jim. "Why? What have you been getting?" 
> 
> "Coins." Jim held up a hand to forestall the protest he saw building. "These aren't ordinary coins, Simon. They're--special." 
> 
> "Jim?" 
> 
> Ellison stood and walked to the windows, gazing out at the people going back and forth about their business. Blair kept a close eye on his friend in case he needed his support. Without turning around, the detective continued his explanation. 
> 
> "And," Jim concluded several minutes later, at last turning away from the windows, "according to the calendar, I'm due to receive another coin today." 
> 
> Simon did not look happy. "This has been going on for over a month, and you're just now telling me about it?" 
> 
> "Sir, the first one belonged to one of my men. I thought it was someone trying to return it to his family. When I got the second one and it didn't belong to anyone I knew, I thought it might be a joke, especially when the third one arrived April first and belonged to one of my men again. I admit, by that time I was really beginning to wonder what was going on. We knew there was going to be another delivery, it was just a matter of when. After the fourth one, we figured out they were being delivered every nine days." 
> 
> "Why every nine days?" the captain questioned. 
> 
> "It was Sandburg who connected that, sir. If you pair the coins in the order they were delivered, they add up to eighteen days, which corresponds to eighteen months, which is how long I was stranded in Peru." 
> 
> Comprehension dawned in Simon's eyes. "You think it's someone connected to that mission, or to Colonel Oliver?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head. "Maybe, but I don't think so. I get the sinking feeling it's more personal than that." 
> 
> "You're damn right it's more personal than that," Blair piped up. "Someone's waging psychological warfare on you, man." Jim shot his partner an annoyed look, but simply sighed. 
> 
> Simon glanced at the grad student, but asked Jim, "You thinking the Switchman?" 
> 
> "This isn't Veronica's style. She was trying to make it public. Whoever this is, is keeping it strictly private. Blair's right Simon. Someone's doing a damn fine job of messing with my head." 
> 
> Banks frowned, rubbing a hand over his face. "No ideas who it could be?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head, sighing heavily. "Other than someone with knowledge of the morale coins and connections to the government, no. I've been racking my brain, but so far no one's come to mind." 
> 
> "Any possibility Brackett might be involved in this?" 
> 
> "No. Brackett's only interest was in my Sentinel abilities, he couldn't care less about the men who died or my feelings about that." 
> 
> Simon nodded in agreement. "Where are the coins now?" 
> 
> "At the loft, in evidence bags. We handled the first three before I gave it much thought." Jim flashed an appreciative look at Blair. "I suspect they were as clean as coins four and five are." 
> 
> "Even so, we should have forensics check them out," Simon said. "You say another coin is due today?" 
> 
> "Yeah." 
> 
> "Why don't you go home at lunch and bring it and the other coins back here?" 
> 
> "Will do, sir." 
> 
> "How's the Haley case coming? Any leads yet?" the captain asked, changing the subject. 
> 
> Jim's jaw clenched as he shook his head. "No. We've turned up no one with a possible motive for killing him. If it weren't for the very professional way he was killed and the obvious attempt to hide the man's identity, I would have to say this was a completely random homicide. I've asked Records to dig deeper into Mr. Haley's past. I should have the results this afternoon. Maybe something will turn up there. Otherwise, I'm completely stumped." 
> 
> "Good enough for now. Why don't you meet me here after lunch? I'd like to see these coins before you turn them over to forensics." 


	4. Silver Cloud, Dark Lining -- Part 3

* * *

> By 1:30 they were back in the captain's office. Simon studied the coins curiously. The white disk mailer sat temporarily ignored on the conference table. 
> 
> "You said three of these belonged to the men on your team, and the other two are strangers?" 
> 
> Jim nodded, gazing at the coins. After a moment he reached out and picked one up. "This one was first. It belonged to my Communications Sergeant." Ellison set it aside and picked up another. "This one was second. It belongs to a man who retired from the Army two years ago. He was also a Communications Sergeant." He set this coin next to the first, and picked up another. "This one belonged to my medic." Jim lined this one up under the first coin and picked up one more. "He retired three years ago. He was also a medic." The detective carefully set this coin next to its counterpart, and picked up the last coin. "Ben Sarris, my engineer." He placed the piece of metal under the first column. All three men stared at the disk mailer, knowing the coin inside would fill the empty space. 
> 
> Just as Jim reached for it, Simon's secretary, Rhonda, knocked and opened the door. "Excuse me, Jim, here's the results of the records search you requested on the Haley case." 
> 
> Jim passed the cardboard container to his partner and took the folder she was holding out. "Thanks, Rhonda." The blonde woman smiled, retreating as quietly as she'd entered. The detective turned his attention to the file. "Go ahead and do the honors, Chief," he said as he opened the folder. "Now, maybe we'll get some answers to why someone wanted to kill Mr. Haley." 
> 
> Blair nodded in agreement, glancing down at the package in his hand. Absently, he pulled the zip strip and dumped the piece of silver into an evidence bag. Instead of looking at the coin his focus returned to Jim and the file in time to see his partner's face go white. "Jim?" 
> 
> Without a word Jim plucked the coin from Blair's fingers and looked at it. The anthropologist saw the look of guilt and anguish that flared in his friend's eyes, before the older man tossed the coin and folder on the table and moved to the windows. There was a definite slump to his shoulders. 
> 
> Blair glanced at the items on the table then at Simon, before focusing a concerned gaze on his Sentinel. "What is it, Jim?" 
> 
> Without turning around Jim quietly answered. "Haley retired from the Army five years ago." He cleared his throat. "He was an 18C with the Seventh SFG." 
> 
> Blair's brow furrowed in puzzlement. He easily translated the SFG to mean Special Forces Group, but he didn't have any idea what 18C meant. Casting another furtive glance at Simon, he saw an equally confused expression. "What's an 18C?" 
> 
> Jim bowed his head. "18C is the MOS designation for an Engineer Sergeant." 
> 
> "Oh." Blair's gaze darted back to the newest coin. "It's Haley's coin, isn't it?" 
> 
> His friend nodded. 
> 
> "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me our murder victim was in the same Army unit, and that's his coin?" Simon spoke up in disbelief. 
> 
> Ellison finally turned around, his face reflecting the guilt and anguish he felt. "It's too much of a coincidence not to be." 
> 
> The captain nodded reluctantly in agreement. 
> 
> "How do I tell Mrs. Haley her husband was killed because of me, a man he didn't even know?" Jim asked raggedly. 
> 
> "Man, you are not responsible for his death!" Blair said vehemently. 
> 
> "I might as well be. It's obvious I was the reason Haley was made a target. He fit the profile." 
> 
> Blair clenched his jaws in imitation of Jim's familiar action, but he said nothing. There was nothing he _could_ say to that. 
> 
> Simon sighed heavily. "Why don't I give Mrs. Haley a call?" 
> 
> "Thank you, sir, but no." Jim shook his head. "I need to do this myself." 
> 
> Banks stared at his detective for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "All right, Jim, but take Sandburg with you." 
> 
> "Yes, sir." 
> 
> Jim didn't sound resigned or disappointed by the order. Blair offered an encouraging smile, and was mildly surprised when his friend squeezed his shoulder in passing. Blair quickly gathered up the coins, and followed Jim out of the office. 
> 
> After delivering the coins to the forensics lab, the two men headed for the Haley residence. When the door opened, they were met by a woman who was taller and younger than Haley's wife. 
> 
> "Yes?" 
> 
> "Excuse me, ma'am, I'm Detective Ellison." Jim showed her his badge. "Is Mrs. Haley available? I need to talk to her." 
> 
> "Hello, Detective. I'm Lily's sister, Jessica Peterson. Please, come in." 
> 
> "Thank you, Ms. Peterson," Jim said quietly. 
> 
> The woman smiled and led them into what was obviously an office. "Please, have a seat. I'll tell Lily you're here." 
> 
> Jim and Blair looked around the neatly ordered room. A large desk with a computer on it took up much of the middle. A long table stood against one wall, littered with blueprints both rolled and unrolled. A round tub held more rolled up plans. Built in book shelves on the other wall held three-ring binders and various institute standards indexes. On the credenza behind the desk were a fax machine and small copier. A niche in the bookcase had been set aside for various personal items such as family photos and construction awards. Among the pictures was one of a broad-faced, dark-haired man in an Army dress green uniform, wearing a beret. It wasn't the standard military portrait Blair was used to seeing, but a more candid shot of the man accepting a large, open, hinged box from another uniformed man. Judging by all the gold braid and striping, Blair guessed the other man was at least a Colonel, or maybe even a General. 
> 
> "Haley, I presume?" Blair asked quietly, indicating the photo. 
> 
> Jim looked at the picture, allowing his eyesight to zoom in for more detail. His hands and jaw clenched reflexively. "Yeah, must be. The other man is Colonel Pierce." 
> 
> "Who's he?" 
> 
> Jim shrugged. "He was in charge of operations and intelligence training. He and I didn't see eye to eye on a few things." 
> 
> "You knew the Colonel, Detective?" 
> 
> Both men turned at Mrs. Haley's quiet voice. Jim swallowed. "Yes, ma'am." They took seats as the woman maneuvered around the desk and sat down. "I was with the Seventh SFG until '90." 
> 
> "Did you know John?" 
> 
> "No, ma'am, I don't think so. We might have met on training exercises, but I don't recall." 
> 
> Lily's brow furrowed in concentration. A few seconds later her face brightened and she snapped her fingers. "That's why you look familiar! You're that poor man who was stranded in Peru for a year and half, originally thought KIA." 
> 
> Jim nodded slowly. Blair hid a faint smile behind his hand. He knew Jim was uncomfortable with any mention of the media event that took place after his rescue, and now the man was almost squirming. Deciding to take the spotlight off his partner, Blair asked, "Was that a medal your husband was receiving?" 
> 
> She looked at the picture for moment. A small, sad smile touched her lips. "Yes. It was his Joint Service Achievement Medal. He got that after a one-week mission unexpectedly turned into three months." 
> 
> Blair was impressed. Figuring the mission itself was classified, he didn't bother to press for details. He glanced at Jim to see that his partner had paled. _What the--? Does he know something about that mission?_ The detective shook his head slightly at Blair's questioning look and he let it drop for the moment. 
> 
> Jim cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh--we're here because more information has turned up concerning your husband's death." 
> 
> Lily looked expectant. "Do you know who--killed him?" 
> 
> Ellison bowed his head for a moment, then met the woman's eyes with an anguished gaze. "No, not yet, but we think we've discovered the reason." 
> 
> "Which is?" Mrs. Haley prompted when the silence had stretched too long. 
> 
> Jim's throat muscles worked. Blair reached over and gripped his friend's arm. "He apparently fit the profile for someone who's been taunting me for a couple of months now." 
> 
> "Taunting you? I don't understand." 
> 
> Jim swallowed. "Mrs. Haley, do you know about the SF group coins?" 
> 
> Slowly, the woman nodded, waiting for an explanation. 
> 
> "Did your husband have a coin?" the detective asked quietly. 
> 
> Again, Lily nodded. "Yes. Even after he retired from the Army he kept that coin on him. He said it was his good luck piece." 
> 
> Ice-blue eyes closed against his anguish. His jaw working nervously, Jim pulled a small evidence bag from his pocket and held it out to Mrs. Haley. "Is this your husband's coin?" 
> 
> With a trembling hand, she took the offered item. Lily stared at the silver coin inside the bag for a long time. "It's John's," she whispered. "From the way you're acting, I take it you didn't find this with his--body?" 
> 
> "No," Jim breathed. "For weeks now I've been receiving coins like this. One every nine days. I have three coins that belonged to those of my men on our last mission, and now I have three coins belonging to men I don't know, but who were in the Seventh and had the same specialties as my men." Ellison swallowed the lump in his throat yet again. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Haley. I'm sorry your husband became a victim of someone's apparent vendetta against me." 
> 
> Mrs. Haley was silent as she digested Jim's words. No one spoke for what seemed like several minutes. Blair glanced nervously from Jim to Lily and back again. Jim sat stoically, waiting for Mrs. Haley's reaction. Lily stared at her husband's picture, her hands unconsciously crumpling a piece of stationary that had been lying on the blotter. 
> 
> Finally, blinking, Lily took a measured breath and turned her gaze back to her guests. Glancing down at the ball of paper in her fist, she looked momentarily abashed. "I'm sorry, Detective." 
> 
> "You have no need to apologize, Mrs. Haley. Your anger is understandable." 
> 
> Lily studied both men, noting the detective's distress, and his friend's obvious concern for him. "Do you understand that I'm not angry at you, Detective?" 
> 
> The big man looked startled. 
> 
> Lily smiled gently. "I want you to put your mind at ease. You are not responsible for the actions of another. I'm angry that someone chose to end my John's life because of some senseless revenge plot or whatever, but I can't--I _don't_ blame you for that. I have a husband I loved dearly to mourn, but I think old wounds have been opened for you. I think they are wounds that never entirely healed, and you're mourning all the harder for your lost men." 
> 
> Blair beamed, thrilled with the woman's obvious concern. 
> 
> Mrs. Haley nodded. "I can tell you're a very compassionate man, Mr. Ellison--and very dedicated. I know you won't stop searching for whoever did this heinous thing until you've found them and brought them to justice. I think you would have done that for me even if John's death was a random act of violence, but I'm more than sure of it now. Go, Detective. Find that killer, and see that he gets justice." 
> 
> Blair wanted to hug the woman. She'd said all the things he could have hoped she'd say. All the right words to ease Jim's guilt, and turn it into an even more determined resolve. He flashed Mrs. Haley a grateful smile, and mouthed "thank you" to her. Lily returned his smile, and tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment. Blair reached over and laid a hand on Jim's shoulder, squeezing it. 
> 
> Ellison straightened from his slumped position in the chair, and lifted his eyes to meet Mrs. Haley's. "Thank you for that. I would have understood if you were angry at me." 
> 
> "No need, Detective. Believe me, I am angry, but none of it is directed at you. You don't deserve it. You're a victim in this too." 
> 
> Jim could only nod in agreement, while Blair mirrored the gesture emphatically. Jim stood up and turned toward the office door. Blair quickly followed, and they quietly preceded Mrs. Haley down the hallway. At the front entrance, the detective gave the woman a small smile. "Thank you. Again. We'll keep you informed." 
> 
> "That's all I ask right now, Detective. Thank you. I know this wasn't easy for you." 
> 
> Jim's lips twitched again, and he shook his head. Blair offered the woman his own quiet thanks, and hurried after his partner, who was already halfway to the truck. 
> 
> "So, what was that reaction I saw, man?" Blair spoke several minutes later. 
> 
> "What reaction, Sandburg?" 
> 
> "When Mrs. Haley was describing how her husband earned that medal." The anthropologist was concerned when his friend's expression grew haunted, and his jaw went rigid. "You know what mission that was, don't you?" 
> 
> A short nod. 
> 
> "What happened?" 
> 
> If anything, Jim's jaw clenched tighter, and Blair thought he heard a faint growl. "Some of it's classified, Sandburg." 
> 
> Blair held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Sorry I asked." 
> 
> A few seconds of silence passed. With a sigh, Jim said, "It was a humanitarian aid mission to Nicaragua. They were providing medical services to a couple of the orphanages hardest hit by all the fighting going on. Fighting broke out. One of the orphanages was destroyed. The team scrambled to move the remaining orphanage to a safer location. The jungles are as thick there as they are in Peru. You can have two teams only a few hundred yards apart and not know it. Anyway, they built a whole new orphanage, while assisting the meager staff with the children, and scouting for guerillas. Eventually the hot zone moved and the team was able to be recovered." 
> 
> "Wow." 
> 
> Jim's lips quirked in amusement. 
> 
> "That's cool, what they did, but--the orphanage that was destroyed." Blair's voice trailed off, not sure how to ask. His partner seemed to know what he was thinking, however, because his hands tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. 
> 
> "All dead," came the whispered response. "Twenty children and two staff people." 
> 
> "Oh, man." Blair paused. "Were you involved in the rescue?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head slightly. "No. A friend of mine led the team Haley was on. He told me what happened." 
> 
> Neither man spoke again until they reached the precinct. As the detective parked the truck, Blair inquired hesitantly, "Jim, if Haley was killed for his coin, do you think the other two men were too?" 
> 
> Jim finished parking the truck and stepped out of the cab before he answered. "I don't know, Chief. I hope not, but it's probably a safe bet. I'm going to do an inquiry on the national database and see what turns up. I don't know if we'll get anything back today or not." 
> 
> Blair nodded in agreement and followed the Sentinel into the elevator. 
> 
> _Rooted to the deck, he helplessly watched the chopper fall toward the earth. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. By some freak happenstance, a second missile soared through the left crew door and out through the right cockpit window. Three of his men died instantly, caught in the missile's path. The pilot was disintegrated when the missile exploded out the other side of the ship. The others were hurt by flying shrapnel. He might be hurt too, he didn't know. He was too numb to feel anything. Smoke and fumes filled his lungs, and he coughed violently. Impact. He was thrown from the aircraft. His head hit something hard. He saw sparkles for a moment, then nothing._
> 
> Jim moaned quietly in his sleep. He rolled onto his side. He tossed a few more times, then subsided into a restless slumber. 
> 
> _The first thing he became aware of when consciousness returned was the stench of fuel, oil, jungle, charred flesh, and blood. The smell only exacerbated the pounding in his skull. Neither of those things had roused him, however. What had finally broken through the veils of consciousness was the sensation of something warm and viscous dripping on his face and trickling down the side of his neck. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Wide, sightless eyes stared back at him from the open hatch above his head. Blood oozed from the dying man's mouth, landing on his cheek. He gasped and rolled to his knees, his heart racing in fear. "No! NO! NOOOO!"_
> 
> _"Jim?"_
> 
> _"No!"_
> 
> _"Jim! Wake up, man!"_
> 
> _"No!"_
> 
> _"Oh, God. Jim! C'mon, man!_ Wake up!" Jim's eyes snapped open. Dimly, he registered the fact that he was on his knees in bed, Blair's hands were gripping his shoulders tightly, and he was speaking. "That's it, man. Are you with me now, Jim? It was a nightmare. Shhh. Easy, easy." Jim gasped, as the remnants of the nightmare came rushing back to him. 
> 
> Blair felt the big man begin to tremble. "What? Jim--Jim, it's all right. It was a nightmare, it can't hurt you. I'm right here. I won't let you go. Come on, man, relax. Shh, shh." Not sure what else to do, Blair kept up the soft reassurances, and continued to hold his friend. One corner of his brain found this role reversal strange, yet oddly comforting. Jim Ellison, Mr. Stoic, didn't have breakdowns very often, and this one seemed to have badly shaken the foundations. 
> 
> It was nearly ten minutes before the shaking subsided, and Jim's breathing was under control. By that time, Blair's own knees and calves were numb. Neither man said anything for several minutes more, Jim out of embarrassment, and Blair simply offering silent support. After the older man calmed, he lowered his hands and began to gently rub the muscular back. 
> 
> Jim finally shifted to a sitting position, draping his legs over the edge of the bed so he could lean forward on his elbows and bury his face in his hands. Blair shifted with him, getting more comfortable while keeping up the soothing motions with one hand. "It was about Peru again, wasn't it?" he asked softly, unnecessarily. 
> 
> The detective dropped his hands with a heavy sigh, and nodded. Blair waited. He wanted to ask questions, but was afraid his friend would misinterpret his motives. This wasn't about his dissertation, this was about a genuine concern and need to help a hurting friend. When the silence had stretched long enough, Blair finally ventured to ask. "Was it the same dream?" Ellison shook his head, confirming Blair's feeling that it wasn't. "What was different about this one that had you shouting?" 
> 
> "Blair, I'd rather not talk about it." 
> 
> _Blair? Uh-oh, this is bad. Okay, I can do this._ "Jim, please don't shut me out. You need to get this out in the open. It's festered inside of you for too long. If you don't talk about it, it's only going to get worse. You _know_ that." Blair stopped, a thought occurring to him. There was an odd constriction in his voice when he continued. "Jim, I've got finals coming up in a couple of weeks. I won't be able to watch your back for a few days. I can't--I won't let you go to work zombied from a lack of sleep from recurrent nightmares and risk getting yourself killed. I won't allow it." 
> 
> Jim turned to look over his shoulder at Blair, smirking. "Protecting your thesis subject, Chief?" 
> 
> "Damn it, Jim!" Blair's face darkened in anger. "This isn't about my paper! I care about you! You, Jim. As my friend, as _my_ Sentinel. Not as a subject for a damned paper! When are you going to stop doubting me?" He dropped his hand from Jim's back and prepared to get off the bed. Jim's hand shot out and gripped his knee. 
> 
> "Chief. Blair, I'm sorry. That was cold. I was teasing. I know you care about me. I think you know I care about you, too. It's just that--you know how I am." 
> 
> Blair was silent for a long moment, his back rigid. Finally, closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing for a moment. Calmer, he opened his eyes and reached up to squeeze the big man's shoulder. "Yeah, Jim, I know, but sometimes--I forget," he whispered. 
> 
> Jim ducked his head, almost contritely. "I'm sorry," he said, patting the leg he'd gripped just a moment before. 
> 
> "Now, about this nightmare--?" 
> 
> "You're not going to let this go, are you?" 
> 
> Blair shook his head. "No. What I said before still applies. I'm not letting you on the streets without me if you're suffering from a lack of sleep due to recurring nightmares." 
> 
> Jim nodded, his smile slowly fading. He turned and leaned forward on his elbows once again. Taking a deep breath, the detective let it out slowly. "We were preparing to rappel from the chopper when the missiles struck, so none of us were strapped in at that point. I was thrown from the ship when it hit the ground. I think I smacked my head on the landing skid, because I blacked out. I came to with," Jim stopped and gulped, "Hill's blood dripping on my face." 
> 
> Blair cringed at the image. "Oh, man," he breathed. 
> 
> "That's what had me on my knees," Jim said. "When I opened my eyes, his were staring down at me from the hatchway above me. I lost it for a moment, and had to get some distance." 
> 
> "Understandable," Blair murmured. 
> 
> A hint of a smile. "Yeah." Silence. "I think I'm going to wish these memories had stayed buried." 
> 
> Blair couldn't help himself. He was excited by the prospect of learning more about Jim's time in Peru. "Do you remember more than what was in your dream?" 
> 
> "I think I'm starting to. One thing of note, and I guess you can put this in your diss." 
> 
> "Jim, I--" 
> 
> "I mean it, Chief. If nothing else, it'll satisfy a bit of your curiosity." Jim really did smile then, and Blair knew he was sincere. 
> 
> "Okay. What is it?" 
> 
> "I think you might have been right that my senses were starting to come online just before the crash. When I came to, the scents I was smelling were nearly overpowering. I could smell the fuel and oil, but also charred flesh and blood. Hill's blood and the blood of the others, and my own." 
> 
> "Which explains why you're able to detect the slightest trace of it without effort, and why you so easily zone on large amounts of it. Other people can recognize the smell of blood in large quantities, but for you--for you the scent is engraved on your mind." Blair's legs began to quiver with his effort to keep from bouncing. 
> 
> Jim chuckled softly. "I figured you'd come up with something like that." 
> 
> Blair grinned, pleased that his friend seemed to be relaxing. He was reluctant to risk shattering the mood, but he felt there were still some issues to deal with. "So your sense of smell was probably online. Do you remember what you did next?" 
> 
> Jim grew still. Blair feared that the Sentinel had zoned, but just as he opened his mouth, the big man started to speak. "I didn't do anything. All I could do was stare at Hill. It was like I was frozen in place. I knew he was still alive, but I couldn't make myself move. When I finally did go to him, he was dead." 
> 
> As Blair listened to the painful memories, his hand returned to Jim's back, rubbing in soothing circles. "Jim--" 
> 
> A shake of Jim's head stopped him, and the big man continued. "I thought at first that my inability to pull myself together and help him had been his death sentence, but--when I did manage to reach him, I realized there was nothing I could have done. He was dead the moment the piece of shrapnel that hit him punched through his chest. It just took his heart a while to realize it." 
> 
> Quiet descended around the two men. "Man," Blair whispered after a moment. "I knew it had to be bad, since you've so thoroughly blocked it out, but" 
> 
> "Chief." Jim interrupted gently. 
> 
> "Huh?" 
> 
> "Don't go into scientific theory tonight, okay? Please?" 
> 
> "Sure, Jim. Sorry." Ellison nodded his acceptance, while Blair continued to rub the Sentinel's strong back. "Are you remembering anything else?" 
> 
> Jim shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe. Can we give this a rest, Chief? Six o'clock is gonna get here too early as it is." 
> 
> Blair paused in his massage, then smiled. Sliding his hand up, he patted his friend on the shoulder and climbed off the bed. "Okay, Jim. Enough treading the halls of memory for one night. Think you can go back to sleep now?" 
> 
> Jim reached out and briefly gripped Sandburg's arm. "Yeah. Thanks, buddy. It helped." 
> 
> The anthropologist flashed one of his megawatt smiles. "You're welcome, Jim. Good night." He turned and started back down the stairs, stopping briefly to give his friend another encouraging smile. As Blair made his way back toward his room, he spoke in a voice only his Sentinel could hear. "Pleasant dreams, buddy." 
> 
> "I'm telling you, man, we should really see about taking off this weekend. Get completely away for a day. I can work on the finals exam I'm going to give my students anywhere," Blair said as he and his partner stepped off the elevator and walked into the bullpen of Major Crime. 
> 
> "It's sounds good, Chief, but I don't know if Simon can give us the time off on such short notice. After all, the Haley case is stillopen." 
> 
> Blair felt his friend stiffen, and looked up. Following Jim's gaze to Simon's office, he saw two men in Army uniform. He unconsciously mirrored his partner's unease. "Jim, do you know who they are?" 
> 
> The detective shook his head. "No, but I have an idea." Just then Simon looked out through his office window and motioned to them. "Let's go, Chief. Time to find out what's going on." 
> 
> Blair patted his partner's back reassuringly, and followed him toward the office. 
> 
> "Jim," Simon said as the partners entered, "this is Major Stoltz and Lieutenant Grange, from Fort Bragg. Gentlemen, Detective Ellison and his associate Blair Sandburg." 
> 
> The uniformed men stood up when the new arrivals came in. The strangers shook hands with Ellison and barely acknowledged Sandburg with a nod. Blair smiled to himself. Brush-offs such as this had long since ceased to annoy him. Sooner or later, they would receive an attitude adjustment. Instead, he simply made himself part of the background and did one of the things he did best. He observed. Of immediate note was Jim's subtle change in stance. His shoulders squared and he held himself straighter, while he exuded an air of caution. 
> 
> "Captain Ellison, Colonel Duffy sent us. He sends his regards," Major Stoltz said in an attempt to break the ice. 
> 
> Jim inclined his head fractionally, his face betraying nothing. "Thank you, sir, but it's just Detective now. I gave up that rank when I left the service." 
> 
> "Yes, so you did. Habit, I guess." 
> 
> A faint smile touched Jim's lips at this. "Why did Duffy send you all the way out here?" 
> 
> "You made him curious." 
> 
> "Gentlemen, why don't we get comfortable?" Simon interjected, gesturing to his large conference table. 
> 
> The two Army officers returned to their seats while Banks moved from behind his desk and sat down at the head of the table. Jim took a seat facing the two uniformed men, and Blair bracketed himself on his partner's right. 
> 
> Major Stoltz looked directly at Blair for the first time. "Captain Banks, do you think it wise that a police observer sit in on this conversation?" 
> 
> Banks scowled. "Sandburg acts as Ellison's partner. He's been an asset to this department. I will vouch for his discretion." 
> 
> "Even so, the information we have to impart is on a strictly need to know basis." Major Stoltz looked at Ellison. "Captain, as a former Green Beret, you should understand this procedure." 
> 
> Beside him, Jim went very still, while Blair's heart skipped a beat in surprise. _Green Beret? What? So I wasn't crazy._ When he caught the sideways glance his Sentinel gave him, he swallowed the questions he wanted to ask and offered a small smile. 
> 
> "I understand, Major," Jim said quietly. "However, if you can tell me why I made Colonel Duffy curious without jeopardizing your _secrecy_ , I will tell you whether or not Sandburg 'needs to know'." 
> 
> There was an expectant silence. Stoltz seemed to be mulling over this turn of events, obviously not having expected any problems. Finally, he reached a decision. "Your recent inquiries to the Colonel concerning some former Green Berets made him wonder, so he did some checking and came up with some interesting information." 
> 
> "He stays." 
> 
> "Pardon me?" 
> 
> "Sandburg stays," Jim said again. "Those inquiries concern a case he and I have been working on, one that seems to involve me." Icy blue eyes lifted to meet the Major's stern gaze. It wasn't long before the older man conceded to the determined detective. 
> 
> "Very well, Mr. Ellison. I'll trust your judgment." 
> 
> One corner of Jim's mouth turned upward, but he said nothing. 
> 
> "Detective, we're interested to know why you've been making inquiries." 
> 
> Blair observed his partner as he silently studied the two military officers. He remembered the last time Jim had locked horns with someone from the Army, really in the Army, not some pretenders. That person had been with Military Intelligence. The woman had been arrogant, condescending, and pumped up on her own self-importance. She'd nearly gotten an innocent young woman killed because of her zealousness. Fortunately, her superiors had finally realized she'd been overstepping the bounds, and pulled the plug on her so-called investigation. So far Major Stoltz had displayed no arrogance, just the usually expected reluctance to part with information. Blair had the feeling Stoltz had knowledge they could use, but he was still surprised when Jim spoke candidly. "Sandburg and I have been investigating the murder of a John Haley. We'd been having trouble turning up a motive, let alone a suspect, so I decided to dig deeper into his past. That's when I learned he had been part of Special Forces." 
> 
> "And the previous inquiries?" Major Stoltz prompted. 
> 
> Jim sighed. "I received their morale coins in the mail. I didn't know either man, so I made the inquiries to find out who they were." 
> 
> "Their morale coins? Why would someone send you their coins? Especially since you claim not to know them?" 
> 
> " _That_ I would like to know myself. Since the middle of March I've been receiving these coins, one every nine days. So far they've been running half and half, half belonged to my team, and the others to men in the Seventh who I don't know. I got Haley's coin yesterday." 
> 
> "Someone with a grudge?" 
> 
> "It appears that way." 
> 
> "Are you aware that Sergeant Michael Johnson and Sergeant Paul Morrow were both murdered within the last two months?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head, his shoulders slumping as he sat back in his chair. "No," he said quietly, "I didn't know, although I can't say I'm truly surprised after discovering Haley's background." 
> 
> There was a moment of silence. "To tell you the truth, detective, Colonel Duffy's curiosity over your inquiries is what turned up the other two homicides. Until then, no one even suspected the deaths could be related. Johnson lived in Arizona and Morrow in Illinois. Your background check on Haley sent up a red flag. The Colonel sent us to find out what's going on." 
> 
> Blair didn't like what the Major seemed to be implying, but managed to hold his tongue. After all, Jim still seemed relaxed, and he figured his friend knew how to deal with these people. 
> 
> "Are you here to help, or to hinder?" Jim asked pointedly. 
> 
> "If, as Colonel Duffy suspected, you are investigating a case, we're to provide what help we can. If not, we are to issue a cease and desist order and leave." 
> 
> Jim pursed his lips in interest. "Sounds fair enough." 
> 
> The major nodded slightly in response. 
> 
> "How did they die?" Blair asked quietly. 
> 
> Stoltz barely glanced at the police observer, obviously reluctant to respond to the question. "Johnson was killed in a car crash. The brake lines had been cut. Morrow was shot once through the head on his way to work." Stoltz paused. "You see now why we didn't connect them?" 
> 
> Ellison nodded. "Serial killers normally don't vary their methods. When were they killed?" 
> 
> "It looks like Johnson died around the fifth of March. It was a few days before his car was found. Morrow was killed on March twenty-third." 
> 
> Jim stiffened, exchanging a haunted look with Blair. 
> 
> "Oh, man," Blair whispered. "The same day you got Johnson's coin." 
> 
> Lieutenant Grange speared the police observer with an accusatory stare. "And why do you know what day it was?" 
> 
> "Grange!" Stoltz barked. 
> 
> The lieutenant subsided marginally, but his stare didn't leave Sandburg as he waited for an answer. 
> 
> Beside him, Blair felt Jim tensing, getting ready to spring. He gave his friend a reassuring glance, and caught a slight nod of assent. Turning back to Grange, he met the man's hard gaze. "Ever heard of a day planner, Lieutenant?" 
> 
> "Why would _you_ need a day planner?" 
> 
> Sandburg ignored the condescending tone. "Hey, man, I'm a grad student, a teaching fellow, and a police observer." _Not to mention Guide to the Sentinel._ "I write down practically everything." 
> 
> "And this is significant because?" 
> 
> Blair scrubbed a hand over his face, casting a perturbed glance at his partner. "Because--I wrote down when Jim received a coin. The twenty-third of March was one of the dates." 
> 
> "Are you in the habit of getting your partner's mail?" 
> 
> "As much as he's in the habit of getting mine." Seeing the odd look on both uniformed men's faces, Blair added in exasperation, "We're roommates, okay? It's pretty common for us to get each other's mail." 
> 
> "I see." 
> 
> "No, I don't think you do," Jim interjected quietly, his tone deceptively mild. 
> 
> "That's it. I've had enough." Blair jumped to his feet and slammed out of the office. He returned moments later, plopping a notebook on the table. Reclaiming his seat, he stabbed a finger at the open page. "Here, read it for yourself, starting with Monday the fifteenth." 
> 
> Grange almost eagerly pulled the notebook closer to him, but Stoltz stopped him by covering the book with a hand. Giving his assistant a quelling glare, the major closed the binder and slid it back across the table. Blair risked a glance at his partner, and caught Jim's gaze on him. The detective's expression was stern, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. Blair felt oddly reassured by this tacit encouragement. 
> 
> "No need for that." 
> 
> Blair's attention snapped back to Major Stoltz. "Good, glad to hear it. Now what?" 
> 
> "I'd say we try to discover what the link is between the coins and Detective Ellison." 
> 
> "We." 
> 
> "We know that whatever this guy is doing, it centers around my last mission. So far the victims' MOSes have corresponded to those of my men in the order of their delivery." Jim quietly interjected. 
> 
> "I don't think I quite follow you, Detective." 
> 
> "The first coin I received belonged to one of my team. The next one belonged to a stranger, but he had been in the Seventh and he had the same specialty as my man. That pattern has repeated itself twice." 
> 
> "He's recreating the Peruvian detail." 
> 
> Jim nodded. "Yes, sir. I believe so." 
> 
> "Major, can you pull the files for the men on Jim's team, plus those of Johnson, Morrow, and Haley?" Simon spoke for the first time since the meeting began, startling everyone. 
> 
> Stoltz' gaze shifted to the police captain. "Of course, but the files are classified." 
> 
> Banks scowled, waving that aside. "I'm not interested in mission details, just in personal info like birth dates, wives, children, Army training courses, that kind of thing. Surely that isn't classified?" 
> 
> The major hesitantly shook his head. 
> 
> "Good. How long will it take you?" 
> 
> "Captain Banks, I'm still not sure." 
> 
> "Major, I realize this case has some strong military ties, personally involving one of my detectives, but it is also still a murder investigation. Now, you can pull government rank and yank the case out of our hands and give it to the Feds, but since it does involve Ellison, you'd be hard-pressed to remove him from the investigation. Why don't we cooperate and get this thing solved? I'm tired of having one of my best detectives haunted by this matter." 
> 
> "Gee, thanks, Captain," Jim said. 
> 
> Simon's gaze turned to Jim for a moment, but he didn't apologize for his words. 
> 
> "Very well, Captain. Your suggestion makes sense. We should be able to pull the information we need by tomorrow afternoon." 
> 
> "Good enough. Jim, when they come back tomorrow, go ahead and take one of the interrogation rooms. Now, gentlemen, if that's all for the moment, my men have some police work to get back to." 
> 
> The five men rose to their feet. Major Stoltz and Lieutenant Grange exchanged handshakes with the others and took their leave. On their way past, Jim gave the Lieutenant a measuring look. 
> 
> "Well, that was interesting," Blair commented after they were gone. 
> 
> Simon made a sound of amusement, moving back to his desk. 
> 
> When there was no corresponding response from Jim, Blair realized his partner wasn't paying any attention. He was staring at Blair's journal, seemingly immersed in thought. "Jim?" 
> 
> Ellison glanced distractedly at Blair. "Can I have a look at that, Chief?" 
> 
> "Uh, yeah, sure." The grad student watched as Jim perched on the edge of the table and quickly leafed through the pages. Wondering what thought his partner was pursuing, Blair moved closer to the table. After a few minutes Jim shut the journal with a snap, and turned his gaze out the window, idly rubbing his lip with a hand. 
> 
> "Jim, what is it?" 
> 
> The big man's eyes were filled with guilt and anger when he finally turned to look at Blair. He said quietly, "The next man is already dead, Chief." 
> 
> "What do you mean already dead?" Simon snapped. 
> 
> Jim's jaw clenched at the harsh tone, and Blair cast the captain an irritated glance before focusing on his Sentinel. "What have you figured out, Jim?" 
> 
> Before answering, Ellison stood up and strode to the windows. He stood, with back straight and hands clasped lightly behind his back, gazing out over his city. "Stoltz said Johnson was killed around March fifth, right?" 
> 
> "Yeah." 
> 
> "He also said Morrow was assassinated on March twenty-third." Blair made an affirmative noise. "I got Johnson's coin the twenty-third." Jim finally turned around to face them. "I received Morrow's coin April tenth, the same day we discovered Haley's body. I got Haley's coin yesterday." 
> 
> By now Blair had paled as he followed his partner's reasoning. "Damn." It was barely a whisper. "So, where's the body, and who is it?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head. "I don't know, but it looks like we have eighteen days to find out, before the next one is murdered. Damn it!" 
> 
> "Easy, Jim." 
> 
> Jim's eyes turned to ice, his expression furious. "How can you stand there and tell me to take it easy? Because of me, because of what I used to be, innocent men are being murdered!" 
> 
> Blair held up his hands defensively. "Whoa, man, I'm on your side, remember?" 
> 
> "Yeah, well, you could've fooled me," Ellison said defensively. 
> 
> "Jim!" Simon commanded. "Just calm down. You're not doing yourself or the case any good by taking it out on the kid." 
> 
> "No, Simon, it's all right. Who else can he yell at?" Blair looked pointedly at his partner. 
> 
> Jim had the grace to blush, looking suitably chastised. "You know I didn't mean it," he said softly. 
> 
> Blair nodded, waving the apology aside. "Jim, you have every right to be upset, but don't take on more guilt than belongs to you. You've got to make yourself believe that what's been happening isn't your fault. We've been over this before, but I'll say it again. It's not your fault that you survived and the others didn't. Sentinel abilities or not, you couldn't have foreseen those two missiles or reacted any differently. Jim, man, you survived something very traumatic, and now some maniac is trying to make you pay for being a survivor. So far they're doing a damned good job of it too!" Blair swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, as he again thought how easily fate could have dealt him a different hand where one Jim Ellison was concerned. 
> 
> "Sandburg's got a point, Jim," Simon interjected gently. "You can't blame yourself for this." 
> 
> Jim was silent for a long time, his stance still unwavering. 
> 
> "Remember, the ultimate blame rests with Colonel Oliver and his greed. He sent you and your team in there with the express purpose of destroying you." 
> 
> The detective visibly seemed to deflate, though his eyes still flashed with frustrated anger. "I know you're right, Blair." 
> 
> The anthropologist glanced at Simon worriedly, then plunged ahead. "Jim, the next man might already be dead, but now that we know when they're being killed, we have something to work with. In a few days we'll know what this victim's specialty was. There are only four left, right? I think it's pretty safe to assume you are the final target, so we can eliminate your MOS from the equation. That leaves only three." Jim looked at him quizzically for a moment, then nodded as he too recalled that the coins of his men indicated what the stranger's specialty would be. With a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth, he said, "And I thought I was the detective." 
> 
> Blair grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. The big man actually chuckled, and Blair's grin only got wider. 
> 
> Before he could bask too long in his accomplishment, Simon's phone rang. The partners prepared to leave, but Banks held up a hand. Moments later he hung up. 
> 
> "Jim, that was the ADA. She wants you in her office at two. She needs your deposition on the Henderson case." 
> 
> Jim nodded. "Okay. Simon, would you contact Major Stoltz and fill him in on what we've concluded? Tell him to keep his eyes open for any deaths of retired SF personnel in the last few days." 
> 
> "That's a hefty order, Jim." 
> 
> "That's the best I can do right now, sir." 
> 
> "All right, I'll call him." 
> 
> "Thanks, sir. Come on, Chief." 
> 
> "Uh, Simon," Blair said as Jim took a step toward the door. "There isn't any way you'd give Jim the weekend off, is there?" He caught a glimpse of his partner's rolled eyes, but only smiled. 
> 
> Simon scowled, looking like an automatic denial was on the tip of his tongue. However, he didn't voice it, studying the two men in front of him, Ellison in particular. It didn't take a sentinel to see the fine lines of fatigue and stress around the crystal-blue eyes. The captain directed his attention back to Blair. 
> 
> "What'd you have in mind, Sandburg?" 
> 
> Blair shrugged. "Not much. Just a two-night camping stay in the Cascade National Forest. We won't even be out of cell range." 
> 
> Banks was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. "All right--depending on how tomorrow pans out." 
> 
> "Great! Thanks, Simon." Blair flashed his partner a satisfied grin, and Jim had to smile in spite of himself. 
> 
> "Yeah, thanks, Simon. I told him I didn't think you'd give us the time off on such short notice." There was a hint of gratitude in Jim's voice. 
> 
> The captain gave them one of his rare, slow smiles. "I'm not blind, Jim. You need the break." 
> 
> Jim gave an answering smile. Without further delay he placed a hand on Blair's shoulder and ushered him out of the office. 
> 
> "So, is it true?" Blair inquired hours later in the truck on the way home. 
> 
> Jim glanced at him in confusion. "Is what true?" 
> 
> "What Major Stoltz said. Were you a Green Beret?" 
> 
> This time the glance Jim threw him was surprised. "What's this about, Sandburg?" 
> 
> "I'm curious, man. I want to know." 
> 
> Ellison sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. "I was a member of Special Forces, what does that tell you?" 
> 
> Blair rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I don't know, Jim, you tell me. I may know a little about a lot of things, but the intricacies of the military isn't one of them." 
> 
> Another, more resigned sigh. "Special Forces _are_ the Green Berets, Chief." 
> 
> The anthropologist's eyes widened, his mind whirling. "Cool!" 
> 
> "Cool?" Jim said incredulously. "Sandburg, why the excitement? You knew I was in Special Forces." 
> 
> "Jim, man, I didn't equate Special Forces with the Green Berets. I mean, I know the Army Rangers are a pretty elite force, and do some special ops stuff, too, but the Green Berets, man, they're the elite of the elite." Blair realized his partner was rather uncomfortable with this discussion. "Man, I'm sorry I seem to be making such a big deal out of this, but it just jazzes me." 
> 
> "I can see that. What I'm wondering is, why? I thought you were a pacifist, Chief, I didn't expect you to be excited about this. I can only imagine what Naomi would say about me." This last was said with a self-deprecating smile. 
> 
> "I'm not my mom, Jim. I still don't care for the darker side of the military, or even the police force for that matter, but I recognize the necessity of some of it. Without the Green Berets and Rangers, and other forces like them, there wouldn't be a 'free world' as we know it. And besides, I know black ops isn't the only thing they do. They handle diplomatic and humanitarian aid missions, too. You said so yourself, when you told me about those orphanages in Nicaragua." 
> 
> The detective was grinning now. "It sounds to me like someone's been doing some research." 
> 
> Blair mirrored the grin, his legs bouncing with pent up energy. "Hey, man, research is what I do best." 
> 
> Jim's smile turned fond now. "No, Guiding is what you do best. Research is what you do to help you Guide." 
> 
> Blair stared at his friend in stunned silence for a moment. "Thanks, Jim." 
> 
> The big man nodded. "You're welcome." 
> 
> "Jim, why so reluctant about the Green Beret thing? Why let everyone say you were a Ranger?" 
> 
> "Because it causes fewer problems, and it's not a lie," Jim answered quietly. "I went through Ranger School immediately following Airborne. I was with the Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment for a year and a half before I was approached by someone from the Seventh Special Forces Group. They were impressed by my service record and wanted me to consider joining Special Forces full time. The rest, as they say, is history." 
> 
> "Wow, man. I didn't know that." Blair fell silent, processing all he'd learned about Jim in the last few minutes. 
> 
> "Why the fascination, Chief, or do I even need to ask?" 
> 
> "I don't know, man, I guess it's just the fact that I'm learning something new about you. You know as well as I do that I practically have to use a crow bar to get any personal information out of you." 
> 
> Jim smirked, but nodded in agreement.   
> 


	5. Silver Cloud, Dark Lining -- Part 4

* * *

> A little before two the next afternoon, Jim and Blair were in one of the interrogation rooms, going over the Haley case file when Major Stoltz and his associate were shown in. 
> 
> "Major. Lieutenant," Jim greeted. He stood next to Sandburg, who was seated with a notebook in his lap. Blair simply waved a hand. "Good afternoon, Detective Ellison. Mr. Sandburg," the major answered, moving to the table and setting down the satchel he was carrying. "Captain Banks tells me you think another man has already died?" 
> 
> Jim nodded. "I'm sure he told you why." 
> 
> "He did, and I've started a search, but it's a pretty daunting task." 
> 
> "Well, I'm hoping something in the files you have will help us narrow down the search, as well as give us a clue to who's doing this." 
> 
> Major Stoltz nodded in agreement. After a lingering glance at Blair, he reluctantly opened the satchel and pulled out the files he'd gathered. The Lieutenant seemed sullen, but said nothing as he took a seat beside his superior. 
> 
> "Okay, we already know about the link between the MOSes. What I'm hoping to discover is any other similarities or ties between the men from my team and the men who were murdered." Glancing quickly through the files, Jim picked two and passed them to Blair. He took another pair for himself, leaving the rest for the major and lieutenant. Stoltz looked again at the observer uncertainly, but said nothing. 
> 
> Blair opened the two files Jim had given him, quickly realizing one was for Hickman and the other for Johnson, the first two coins received. He glanced over the obvious similarities. Both men had been in the same Special Forces Group, and communications specialists. Sitting up, he said, "Jim, look at this." Ellison leaned over to see what he'd found. "Hickman and Johnson were the same age." 
> 
> Jim looked back in the files in his hand. "Hill and Morrow, too." A glance at Major Stoltz received a confirming nod. 
> 
> The detective sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. "Same Group, same MOS, same ages. Man, this guy has been thorough." 
> 
> "Same physical description, too," Blair added, meeting his partner's startled gaze calmly. Jim glanced at the files again, confirming what Blair had discovered. 
> 
> "That will help narrow the search down, if we can only determine who's next." With a resigned sigh, Jim reached for one of the unpaired files. A file of one of his men. 
> 
> An hour was spent going over the information. In that time, Blair had to surreptitiously pull Jim out of several memory zones. Each time, he would pass a concerned glance at his partner, who would simply acknowledge his concern with a slight shrug. Always the researcher, it didn't take Blair long to begin taking notes. He started listing the men's names and their particulars, such as age, rank, specialty, and the MOS designation. He'd just finished writing Jim's name and rank when his partner looked to see what he was doing. 
> 
> "18A," the big man murmured, tapping a long finger in the appropriate column. Blair smiled indulgently and dutifully wrote down the number. When he looked back up, Jim was staring at the page as if transfixed. Blair nudged him gently with an elbow. 
> 
> Jim blinked, and turned his bemused gaze to his partner. "That's it." 
> 
> "What?" 
> 
> "The MOS designations. That's how he's doing it." Jim tapped on the page again. Write down the designations in order. Put Johnson, Morrow, and Haley off to the side." 
> 
> Blair started writing, seeing what Jim saw, but quickly growing confused again. When he finished, he looked at the list he'd created. "Ellison, 18A; Turnbow, 18B; Sarris, 18C; Hill, 18D; Hickman, 18E; Andersen, 18F; Tippit, 18Z; Crouse, 180A." In another column he had written, "Johnson, 18E; Morrow, 18D; Haley, 18C." 
> 
> The anthropologist looked back at his partner. "Okay, I can see where you're going with this. You think they're being killed in order of their MOS designations, right? If that's true, why not start all the way at the bottom, with," he glanced at his notebook, "a 180A?" 
> 
> Jim smiled, his eyes actually gleaming with discovery. "Because, a 180A isn't at the bottom, Chief. Neither is an 18F or an 18Z." Blair waited for his friend to clear up his confusion. "Think of it as a hierarchy, Chief. The captain--I'm at the top. I'm the leader, I make the final decisions. My second in command is the Warrant Officer, my XO, the 180A. He carries out my decisions and informs me of things that need my attention. Next in line is the Operations NCO and Team Sergeant, or 18Z. He's a Master Sergeant. His job is to coordinate the team's activities. He has an assistant. The 18F, Intelligence and Operations officer. Without him, no team could be fielded. From there it's just a matter of designation." 
> 
> Blair absorbed this surprising deluge of information from his normally sententious partner, then returned his gaze to the notebook. "So, you think an 18B, Weapons Sergeant, has already been murdered?" 
> 
> Jim nodded. 
> 
> The police observer located the file of Jim's weapons sergeant, and looked over the contents. "Jake Turnbow, Sr., would have been fifty-five. He had blond hair and brown eyes. Height, 5'-10". Weight 190 pounds, stocky build." 
> 
> Jim turned to Major Stoltz, who was already writing. "I think that narrows down your search parameters, Major." 
> 
> The older man nodded in agreement. "I'll get some people on it as soon as we're finished here." 
> 
> "Jim, do you think the next one is going to be the Intelligence guy?" 
> 
> "It's a fair bet, Chief." 
> 
> "Maybe the major could be looking for them, too?" 
> 
> "That's a good idea." Blair handed the big man a piece of paper with the description already written down. Jim gave him a wry smile, which he returned. The detective passed the information to Stoltz. 
> 
> There was a knock on the door, followed closely by Simon's entrance. "Gentlemen. I came to see how it's going in here. Found out anything?" 
> 
> "Yes, sir." Jim nodded. "We've established a pattern for the murders." 
> 
> "Good. Suspects?" 
> 
> "Haven't gotten that far." 
> 
> Simon nodded. His expression said he was disappointed but not surprised. "Well, it's almost four o'clock. If you two still plan to make a weekend of it in the woods, why don't you pack it in and pick this up Monday?" 
> 
> "Hey, almost forgot! Thanks Simon." 
> 
> "Yeah, thanks, sir." Jim looked at Major Stoltz. "You probably won't have anything back until then, will you?" 
> 
> "Probably not. Even narrowed down, it's going to take a while." 
> 
> Jim nodded. "Okay. Simon knows how to get hold of us if anything comes up. Nine Monday morning?" 
> 
> "We'll be here," Stoltz agreed, beginning to gather up the files, as Blair and Jim stood up. 
> 
> "Giving the hippie boy a survivalist lesson, Detective?" The voice was derogatory. 
> 
> The entire room went silent. Slowly, Jim turned toward Lieutenant Grange. He smiled, though his eyes glinted with ice. "I may not be in the Army anymore, Lieutenant, but I still outrank you. Is that understood?" 
> 
> Surprisingly, Grange responded to the tone by coming to attention. "Yes, sir." 
> 
> "Good. Now, what does Mr. Sandburg's appearance have to do with whether or not he can survive in the woods?" 
> 
> "Nothing, sir." 
> 
> "Unless you can tell me you've been on live field missions, don't presume to know what Sandburg's capabilities are or aren't." 
> 
> Silence. 
> 
> "I didn't think so." Jim motioned to his partner. "Come on, Chief. Let's hit the road. See you Monday, Simon. Major." 
> 
> "Stay out of trouble, Jim. You too, Sandburg." Simon grinned at the shorter man as they walked past him. Blair grinned back and hurried after his partner. 
> 
> Outside the room, Jim stopped abruptly. Recognizing the look, Blair leaned closer. "What is it? What do you hear?" 
> 
> "Ellison keeps that pansy joined at the hip, doesn't he?" 
> 
> "I'll pretend I didn't hear that remark. Ellison and Sandburg have a damned good partnership. That's all you need to know or care about." 
> 
> "I agree, Captain Banks. Grange, if you can't act like a proper officer, I can send you back to North Carolina." 
> 
> Jim smiled down at his partner, beginning to walk again. "Just Simon, Chief. Defending our honor." 
> 
> Blair was perplexed for a moment, then his eyes rounded. "Let me guess. Grange said something stupid again, right?" 
> 
> Jim clapped him on the shoulder as he steered him back toward his desk. "Got it in one, Chief. Got it in one." 
> 
> Blair watched the fire flare as Jim added more wood. He pulled his coat a little closer around himself and leaned back against a log with a contented sigh. 
> 
> They'd arrived at their chosen campsite just before dusk. Jim had grabbed his fishing tackle and headed for the river while Blair had set up camp. By the time the detective returned an hour and a half later with a respectable string of trout, the fire had been going nicely. They'd dined on fresh baked fish and canned baked beans. It had tasted delicious. 
> 
> "You know the question I have, Jim?" 
> 
> Jim settled back against the log. "No, Sandburg. What question would that be?" 
> 
> Blair heard the note of amusement, but ignored it as he continued to stare at the dancing flames. "How is this guy getting his hands on your men's coins?" He turned his gaze to Jim. "I mean, I can almost see him able to get the others, especially if the victims have been like Haley and kept their coins on them, but the men from Peru? How's he getting them?" 
> 
> Jim shrugged. "I don't know, Chief. That's something that's been bugging me, too. Those coins should all be in the possession of their families." 
> 
> Blair remained silent, turning his attention back to the fire. "How many guys continue to carry those coins after they leave the service?" 
> 
> The big man contemplated the shifting colors of the flames. "Probably quite a few. I suppose it's like carrying a lucky piece, like Mrs. Haley said." 
> 
> "Do you carry yours?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head. "No," he said, barely audible. 
> 
> "Why not?" Truly curious. 
> 
> "More fodder for your dissertation, Sandburg?" Before Blair could react to that comment, Jim hurried on. "Forget I said that. I'm sorry, Chief." He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "I enjoyed my time in the service. It was something I was good at. My team and I, we met every mission with a sense of purpose. We knew what we were there for. We felt like what we did made a difference." Jim dropped his gaze to his hands for a moment, then looked back at the fire. "After Peru, it all changed. My team had died. My sole purpose for eighteen months was getting to know the Chopec and help them defend their land, not against other tribes, but against anyone trying to take something from their land. After I was retrieved and my head had cleared, I accused Oliver of incompetence. When no one seemed to care, I knew it was over. I took the honorable discharge, and returned to Cascade. I tucked the coin away with the other memories, and left it at that." 
> 
> Blair pursed his lips, absorbing everything his friend had said, silently amazed by the amount of information Jim had willingly divulged. "Under the circumstances, I think that made perfect sense." 
> 
> The older man smiled slightly. 
> 
> "You know, it's at times like this that I wish we'd never met," Blair said. The hurt and betrayal he saw quickly shuttered in the other man's eyes let him know all he needed to in order to push this conversation. "No, I don't wish that, I wish the reason for our meeting didn't exist." 
> 
> Now the expression in the steely-blue eyes staring at him was cautious, but questioning. Blair met that gaze unflinchingly. "My dissertation, Jim. I feel that real and tangible barrier every time you get defensive about something I've asked you. I thought after--Alex--that we'd worked it out, that we'd come to an understanding, but we really haven't. Not about this." 
> 
> "Blair." 
> 
> "No, Jim. My turn." Blair swallowed, staring into the fire. He firmed his resolve and plunged ahead. "In the beginning, yeah, all I was really concerned about was gathering information for my diss. I knew I could help you get control of your senses, and I knew you could help me achieve my life's dream. I never figured on the emotional commitment that would come out of it." He risked a glance at Jim, and saw the rock-like jaw and icy eyes watching him. Sighing, Blair pulled his legs up and leaned his head on his knees. "We became friends. Really good friends. That's not something a scientist is supposed to let happen, but it did, and now I'm stuck with it. When Alex came along I thought, 'Cool. Another sentinel. I can help her, and use her as my subject, and take the heat off Jim. That should make Jim happy. Make him feel less like a lab rat.' 
> 
> "Well, I don't have to tell you what a big mistake that turned out to be. Now, here I am, almost one year later, a PhD candidate, you as my subject, and my stupid dissertation in the middle. I'd rip it up and burn it, but I can't. I know you know if you asked me to burn it I would, but I also know you know it would mean the end of my career, my life's dream. And you would never ask that of me, because I know, despite my run-on mouth and other annoying habits, you respect me, respect what I do. Our friendship should mean more than my doctorate, and it does, but you don't need a freeloader for a friend, or a friend who can't be your Guide because he's flippin' burgers at Wonder Burger. So, you're stuck with letting yourself be my subject, thinking that anything personal you reveal is going to end up in my paper. 
> 
> "I admit that in the beginning that probably would have been true. But I've learned a lot in the few years I've known you. The value of friendship, and just as importantly, the value of discretion. Now, I'm wondering how I can convince you that I don't have ulterior motives whenever I get you to open up to me. Yes, I catalog practically everything concerning you, but for a long time now, most of it has been going in my personal journals. Hell, as your Guide, I've even started cataloging my own responses. How accurate it is, is anyone's guess." Blair paused, closing his eyes. "Jim, if I already had my doctorate, or was an old tenured professor, I would still care what happens to you. I care about you, the man, Jim, who just happens to be a sentinel. I'm not planning on going anywhere. So, where does that leave us?" 
> 
> There was no immediate response. Blair kept his eyes closed, listening to the pop of the branches in the fire. He was startled to feel a warm, familiar hand come to rest on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, and came face to face with Jim's suspiciously bright gaze. 
> 
> "With a jerk for a sentinel," Jim whispered, his lips twitching into a hesitant smile. 
> 
> Blair raised his head, returning the smile. "I don't know, man. I think we can both claim that title on occasion." 
> 
> The smile became more sure. "Yeah, you have a point." Jim was quiet for a moment. "I can't deny any of what you said. I know you'd destroy your work if I asked you to, and no, I'd never ask you to sacrifice something that important to you. It wouldn't be fair. I also know in here," the big man pointed to his heart, "that you care about me as a person, not as some lab rat. But the brain doesn't always see eye to eye with the heart. Fear-based responses, remember?" 
> 
> Blair rolled his eyes, but nodded. "I wish I'd never written that." 
> 
> "No. It's true, and I think I understand what you meant, but I should never have read it. Just another Ellison-jerk reaction. I can promise to try and do better, but you know I'm likely to fall into the same pattern as before." 
> 
> "I know, Jim. But a guy can hope you'll eventually learn, right?" 
> 
> Jim cuffed him lightly on the head. "Right. So, are we okay now?" 
> 
> "Yeah, Jim. We're good." 
> 
> "Good. Let's hit the sack, so we can get an early start on the fish tomorrow." 
> 
> "I can deal with that." 
> 
> Jim doused the fire while Blair gathered the blanket they'd been sitting on and ducked into the tent. Within minutes both men were comfortably cocooned in their sleeping bags, and well on their way to slumber. 
> 
> Two days later, back on the road toward Cascade, Blair found his thoughts wandering. It had been an idyllic outing. Great weather, great fishing, and great companionship. He couldn't have asked for better. Glancing at Jim, seeing how relaxed the Sentinel was, made him smile. It was like having their spiritual batteries recharged. Blair considered that thought for a long moment. 
> 
> "You lost in your own zone there, Chief?" 
> 
> Blair chuckled. "No, just thinking. We had a nice weekend, didn't we?" 
> 
> Jim nodded. "Yeah. I can't believe how good I feel. It was very refreshing to get back to nature. It's been a while." 
> 
> "I was just thinking the same thing. Ancient sentinels and their shamans must have been very close to the earth, in harmony with nature. I always knew we take these trips to get away for a bit and hopefully relax. I've just never really considered how rejuvenating these little outings are. That is, when nothing goes wrong, like stumbling into poachers or something." 
> 
> Jim laughed in agreement. 
> 
> A few more miles passed in companionable silence. "You know, Jim, I've been thinking about the coins, and what you said about how they should have gone to their families." 
> 
> "Yeah?" 
> 
> "What if they did, and someone's managed to steal them?" 
> 
> Jim raised his eyebrows skeptically. 
> 
> "I know it sounds kinda wild, but all you'd have to do is check out one. See if they've been robbed recently or had a break in? What d'you think?" 
> 
> Ellison rubbed a hand over his mouth, keeping his eyes on the road. He finally glanced at Blair. "I think it's worth a shot, Chief. You just might have something. I'll contact Major Stoltz when we get home and see if he'll check into it for us." 
> 
> Blair flashed his partner a grin. With that the anthropologist pulled out his laptop, and began to work on finishing up the test he was going to give his students. 
> 
> Simon was standing in the doorway of his office when they entered the bullpen the next morning. He had obviously been watching for them because his stern features softened into an anticipatory smile. 
> 
> "Hey, Simon!" Blair greeted. 
> 
> "Morning, sir." 
> 
> "Good morning. Glad to see you made it back in one piece." The captain gestured into his office, and stepped back. 
> 
> Blair grinned, bouncing on his toes. He glanced up at his partner before preceding him into Simon's domain. 
> 
> Blair took his usual seat and Jim his usual perch on the table as Banks closed the door behind them. "It looks like your little excursion helped." 
> 
> "Yeah! It was great." 
> 
> Jim smiled, nodding in agreement with his partner's assessment. 
> 
> "Good. Just don't expect to do that too often, Sandburg." 
> 
> Blair laughed. "No fear of that, Simon." 
> 
> The captain favored the police observer with a glare that didn't quite hide the pleased glint in his eyes. Amenities aside, Simon turned his attention to Jim. "Have you talked to Stoltz since you got back?" 
> 
> "No. I tried him once last night, but he wasn't in." 
> 
> Simon nodded, moving to lean against his desk. Crossing his arms over his chest, he hesitated before saying quietly, "He called me yesterday afternoon. They've located the latest victim." 
> 
> There was a moment of silence. "Who?" 
> 
> "A man by the name of Charles Walker. He lived in Tacoma. Guess he retired from the Army about four years ago. Stoltz and Grange went to check it out. The major said they'd be back by this afternoon." 
> 
> Jim nodded glumly. "Do they know how?" 
> 
> "Would you believe, they think he was garroted?" 
> 
> "Garroted!" Blair exclaimed. He looked at Jim to see his partner close his eyes and bow his head. 
> 
> "This guy is good," Jim said quietly, opening his eyes and raising his head to look at Simon. "Every murder a different method. He's obviously assassin-trained. My guess is military. He knows far too much about me, Special Forces, and the coins to be just some hired killer satisfying someone else's grudge against me." 
> 
> "Okay, I'll go along with that. Now what?" Banks questioned. 
> 
> Jim stood up. "I think I'll follow up on a theory Sandburg had this weekend." 
> 
> Simon eyed Blair skeptically, but simply said, "Keep me informed." 
> 
> "Will do, sir." With that, the two men left the captain's office. 
> 
> "So, you're really going to do that?" Blair asked as they maneuvered their way to Jim's desk. 
> 
> Jim nodded. 
> 
> "You know how to get hold of the families?" 
> 
> The detective hung up his coat, pulled out his wallet, and sat down. "I do one of them." 
> 
> While he shrugged out of his own jacket, Blair watched his partner search through the billfold briefly, then pull out a scrap of paper. As Jim reached for the phone, Blair went to the break room, returning in moments with two mugs of coffee. He sat down in his customary chair just as someone picked up on the other end. 
> 
> "Bonnie," Jim said into the receiver. "It's Jim." He had to clear his throat. "Jim Ellison." A pause. "Yeah, it has been a while. Sorry I missed calling you last Memorial Day. How's Annie?" Jim smiled sadly. "I bet she's getting to be as pretty as her mother. She'll be starting college next year, won't she?" Another pause. "Good. Bonnie, listen, I need to ask you something. Okay. Have you had any recent break ins? You have. When? Was anything taken? Allall right, Bonnie. Take it easy. Did you ever find out who did it? That's okay. Bonnie," Jim swallowed. "I have it. Someone delivered it to me. No, I don't know who, yet. It's a long story. I have to hang on to it for a while yet, but as soon as I can, I'll get it back to you. I promise. Okay. Thanks, Bonnie. Tell Annie hi for me. Tell her she'd better get good grades if she wants that scholarship." Finally the smile was back. "Yeah. I understand. Thanks, Bonnie. Bye." 
> 
> Blair waited expectantly as Jim hung up the phone. With a sigh, his partner sat back in his chair. Finally, he met Blair's gaze. "That was Bonnie Hill. She says her house was broken into almost four months ago. Some jewelry and other small items were taken. Kelly's coin was among them. Everything but the coin was recovered a few weeks later. She was afraid whoever had taken it had melted it down or something. She was relieved to know I have it." 
> 
> Blair nodded, pursing his lips in thought. "I didn't know you stayed in touch with any of the families." 
> 
> He saw Jim hesitate for a moment. "Yeah." 
> 
> Blair raised his brows in silent inquiry. 
> 
> A small, wry smile touched Ellison's lips. "Kelly and I were fairly close. I was pretty good friends with him and his wife. I told you he had a six-year-old daughter when we went to Peru. I--I try to stay in touch with Bonnie, try to contact her around Memorial Day every year, just to see how she and Annie are doing. You know, just to let her know Kelly's not forgotten." Blair nodded again in understanding. "Annie's about seventeen now. She'll be starting college next year." Jim stopped. 
> 
> Blair didn't press him any further. "So, what do we do now?" 
> 
> Before Jim could answer, his phone rang. "Ellison." He shot Blair a startled glance. "Mrs. Haley, hello." 
> 
> Hearing the name, Blair sat up, focusing all his attention on his partner. A few minutes later, Jim returned the receiver to its cradle, looking a little dazed. 
> 
> "Well, what did she say?" 
> 
> "Uh, she called to personally invite us to her husband's memorial service." 
> 
> "Why?" 
> 
> "She said it would honor his memory if the person who served in the same SF Group and was now investigating his murder attended." 
> 
> "Are you going to go?" 
> 
> Jim shrugged. "I don't know." He paused. "Yeah, I think maybe I will." 
> 
> "Good. When is it?" 
> 
> "Tomorrow. One o'clock." 
> 
> "Okay. I only have the one class tomorrow afternoon. I can get somebody to cover for me. Unless of course you don't want me to go with you?" 
> 
> "Yeah, I want you to go. Do you think I'm going to do this on my own? Not hardly. Besides, she asked you to come, too." 
> 
> Blair smiled, then his expression turned serious again. "So, like I said, what do we do now?" 
> 
> "Well, I'd say we wait for Major Stoltz to get back. He'll have easier access to where the other families are and how to reach them. In the meantime, we still have a bunch of paperwork to do." 
> 
> "Ah, gee. I would've never guessed." 
> 
> "Seriously, Chief. I think we might be on to something here." The detective patted Blair's back, then reached for a folder from his in-box. 
> 
> Blair picked up another folder while taking a sip of his coffee. His mind wasn't on the file, however. A stray thought had captured his attention and he spent several minutes chasing after it. 
> 
> "Chief?" 
> 
> Blair blinked and looked up at his partner. "Jim, you said this guy's probably military." Jim nodded, waiting expectantly. "I know you said it wasn't Veronica's style, but could it be someone else like her? Another son or daughter or relative of one of your men?" 
> 
> Jim sat back in his chair, giving this some serious thought. "God, I don't want to think so." 
> 
> "But?" 
> 
> "But, I suppose it could be a possibility." Jim picked up a pencil and began toying with it. After several minutes of staring at nothing, the detective shook himself and set to work on the file in front of him. 
> 
> Blair watched him for a moment. He could tell part of his friend's mind was still working on the problem, so he decided not to push. Though frustrated, he focused his attention on his own file. He was surprised when he heard Jim's quiet voice a few moments later. 
> 
> "Stoltz has probably already thought of that angle. If he has, he's more than likely compiled a list already. I'll ask him when we see him this afternoon. Whoever this guy is, he's definitely in the service and close to Special Forces, if not actually in it. It makes sense that it might be somebody closely connected to my men. After Veronica, I have to believe it's possible." 
> 
> Blair met Jim's haunted gaze. He offered him an encouraging smile. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Jim. We're getting closer." 
> 
> Jim nodded resignedly, then turned his attention back to the file in front of him. 
> 
> At three o'clock that afternoon, Major Stoltz and Lieutenant Grange walked into the bullpen. "Detective Ellison." 
> 
> "Major." Jim looked up, and got to his feet. "What'd you find out?" 
> 
> "Can we go somewhere private?" 
> 
> "Sure. Rhonda, we'll be in Interrogation Three." Simon's secretary nodded an acknowledgment. 
> 
> "Where's your _partner_ , Ellison?" 
> 
> "Grange," Stoltz growled quietly. 
> 
> Jim didn't comment right away, but as the lieutenant prepared to step past him into the room, he placed a hand in the middle of the stocky man's chest. "You seem to have a problem dealing with Sandburg. I suggest you either get a handle on it, or I'll handle it for you." 
> 
> "Are you threatening me?" Grange sneered. 
> 
> "No. Stating fact. Sandburg has earned his place in this department--the hard way." 
> 
> "Tell me, Ellison, do you always fight his battles for him?" 
> 
> The detective rolled his eyes. "I don't have to." Jim smiled ever so slightly, then let the lieutenant by him. 
> 
> "Hey, Jim. What's up?" Blair asked, appearing at his partner's side. 
> 
> "Hey, Chief. Glad you're back. Stoltz and Grange are here." The detective motioned Blair ahead of him, then closed the door. 
> 
> The major leveled a meaningful glare at his associate as the observer came in. Jim smiled slightly at Blair's questioning glance, but shook his head slightly. Blair shrugged and settled into a seat across from the uniformed men, while Jim got himself a cup of coffee from the machine in the corner, then joined him. 
> 
> "We heard about Charles Walker. What'd you find out?" Jim questioned. 
> 
> "As suspected, he fit the general profile of your man Turnbow. He was fifty-five; his former specialty, Weapons seargent. He retired from service four years ago. Method of death--garroting." 
> 
> Jim nodded, getting to his feet to move around. "I assume you've figured out that it has to be someone either in the Army, or closely associated with it." 
> 
> "That's my guess, yes." 
> 
> "Where are you on narrowing down the next target?" 
> 
> "So far, we've got it down to about one thousand men, but we're still eliminating possibilities." 
> 
> Another nod. "A few years ago, the daughter of one of my men was involved in a bombing spree. She thought I had let her father die in Peru." 
> 
> "I recall the case. Veronica Sarris. She was placed back in a mental institution after she was apprehended." 
> 
> "Have you pulled the jackets on my team for possible suspects? That seems the most likely pool at this point." Jim's gaze met Blair's. The anthropologist offered a small smile. 
> 
> "As a matter of fact, we did. Of the immediate family members, two are currently in the service, one is in a psychiatric hospital and two have retired." Major Stoltz pulled the files in question from his satchel. 
> 
> "Hickman was never married. He had an older brother killed in Vietnam. A younger brother, Tom, is an SGT with the 75th Ranger Regiment, 3rd Battalion. Hill had a wife and young daughter. The daughter is still in school. Sarris' wife died about a year before the Peruvian detail; his daughter was in the Navy, and is currently in a psychiatric hospital. Turnbow had a son, Jake Junior. He's currently an SSG with the 528th Support Battalion. Andersen and Tippit both had uncles serving in Reserve units. They've since retired. Crouse had a son and a daughter. The son died in Desert Storm, the daughter was killed in an auto accident in '87." 
> 
> The room was quiet for a long moment. Blair watched his partner's face as he processed the deluge of information. Finally, Jim spoke quietly. "Turnbow and Hickman seem to be the strongest possibilities." Jim paused. "Major, we've been trying to figure out how this guy is getting his hands on the old coins when they should be in the possession of their families. Sandburg came up with a theory, and I think it's worth investigating. I've already checked with Bonnie Hill. Almost four months ago, her house was broken into. Just small items were taken. Hill's coin was among them, but wasn't returned when the rest of the stuff was recovered. There were no suspects. I'd appreciate it if you'd check with the other families and see if they've had any similar occurrences." 
> 
> "And if they have, what will that tell us?" 
> 
> Jim looked steadily back at the major. "Hopefully, that none of the relatives are involved in this." 
> 
> Stoltz pursed his lips, and nodded in agreement. "All right. I'll check into it. I'll also see what I can pull on Tom Hickman and Jake Turnbow, Jr." 
> 
> "Thanks, Major." 
> 
> The major nodded and stood up. Quickly gathering the files and putting them back in his satchel, he nodded to Jim and Blair, gathered Grange with a gesture, and left. 
> 
> "Jim? What is it?" Blair had noticed his partner immersed in thought as the two men departed. 
> 
> Ellison shook his head and glanced at Blair. "I don't know yet. Something's nagging me, but I don't know what." 
> 
> "Is it a memory? Something about Hickman or Turnbow?" Blair paused. "Something from the nightmares?" 
> 
> "I don't know. Maybe." Jim frowned, then shrugged. "Come on, let's go tell Simon what little we have, then call it a day." 
> 
> Blair nodded in agreement and followed his partner. Just before leaving the room, Blair asked, "How well did you know Turnbow's father? Were you friends?" 
> 
> Jim stopped, and looked down at Blair, his expression thoughtful. "We respected each other. He took Sam's place on the team after Sam got sick." Jim paused "That's it. That's what I was trying to remember. Jake took Sam's place. I didn't know him that well, but we had worked together a couple of times. When we went to Peru, his son Jake Jr. had just completed Basic Training at the top of his class. We all teased Jake about it. Like he'd better be careful or he was gonna find himself outranked by his own son, that kind of stuff." 
> 
> Blair smiled at the image that conjured. 


	6. Silver Cloud, Dark Lining -- Part 5

* * *

> "Jim, what do you make of Major Stoltz?" Blair asked as they headed toward the station after the memorial service. 
> 
> "He seems like a pretty decent sort. He's the kind of officer you don't mind taking orders from." 
> 
> "What about Grange? Can I assume he's in the jerk category?" 
> 
> Jim laughed. "Yeah, Chief. I think you can assume that. It's his type I'd take out on field training exercises and make go through the swamps with full gear until I was satisfied they had the appropriate attitude. If it didn't stick, we'd do it again." Jim grinned evilly, then his expression turned serious. "As stern as Stoltz seems, I've been disappointed he hasn't put Grange on a tighter leash. I honestly hope he does something about the man before I'm forced to send the jerk home in a box." 
> 
> "Jim!" 
> 
> "What? I won't do it, but the thought will be there." 
> 
> Blair shook his head, but had to grin in agreement. 
> 
> Major Stoltz was in Simon's office when they reached the bullpen. Pausing long enough to hang up their jackets, the two men made their way to the captain's door. Simon called "Enter" immediately after Jim's knock. The dark-skinned man turned at their entrance. 
> 
> "Good, you're back. Obviously, the major is here." 
> 
> Jim nodded a greeting to his boss, then looked at Stoltz. "Hello, sir. Do you have something for us?" 
> 
> "Detective. First off, I want to let you know that I've sent Grange back to Washington with a reprimand in his file. While I'm still unsure about Mr. Sandburg's involvement in this investigation, I'm prepared to accept your and Captain Banks' judgment. Grange grossly overstepped himself with his insubordination and conduct unbecoming an officer. I commend you on your restraint in dealing with him. I'm sure it couldn't have been easy, given his attitude." 
> 
> Jim looked stunned as he stared at the major. Blair tapped his friend's elbow lightly, and the big man blinked. Glancing at Blair, he refocused on Stoltz. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate that you took care of him before I had to." 
> 
> Simon was smirking, but said nothing as Major Stoltz replied, "It needed to be done. I apologize again, for his behavior." 
> 
> Jim simply nodded. 
> 
> "Now," Stoltz said, "I've got some other information. It turns out that Sergeant Hickman and his detachment have been stationed in Somalia for the last sixteen months. So, I'd say that leaves him out as a suspect. Sergeant Turnbow's detachment has been on rotating assignments since last November. I had his complete file faxed to me. For obvious reasons, I can't allow you to see some of it." 
> 
> Jim nodded again in understanding. "What about the families? Did you get a chance to contact them?" 
> 
> "I did, and you were right. They have all had recent break ins, with small items stolen then recovered but for the coins. That is, every family but one." 
> 
> Jim looked expectantly at the major. 
> 
> Stoltz returned the detective's gaze steadily. "Turnbow's widow said her son has had possession of his father's coin for eighteen months." 
> 
> The detective gasped. Blair moved quickly to give his partner physical contact, the sort that would anchor his Sentinel in the here and now. 
> 
> The major continued as if nothing untoward had occurred. "Mrs. Turnbow said that he came home on leave and asked if he could have it. He was preparing to go on a particularly dangerous mission, and told her he wanted it as a good luck piece." 
> 
> Jim grimaced. "Where have I heard that before?" he commented sourly. 
> 
> "That's great, but all we really have is suspicion and a lot of circumstantial evidence, right?" Blair asked. 
> 
> Surprised, Major Stoltz looked at Blair and nodded. "Yes, that's about it." 
> 
> "So, what next?" 
> 
> "Just like any other investigation, Chief. We start digging for more information. When we have something solid we can put the guy under surveillance." 
> 
> Stoltz nodded in agreement. 
> 
> Blair's expression must have appeared despondent because Jim spoke encouragingly. "Cheer up, Chief. It's not like we haven't done this a million times before. It'll be harder since our suspect is in the Army, but not impossible. We should be able to track him through his paper trail. If he's had any leaves, and how often. Where he's gone. That sort of thing." 
> 
> "Oh, I know, man, it's just thatI don't have to tell you how frustrating this is." 
> 
> "Yeah, I know." 
> 
> "Do you want to get started on that line now, or wait and pick it up first thing in the morning?" Simon asked, speaking for the first time since the partners had entered his office. 
> 
> "I'd just as soon get started," Jim answered. Blair nodded in agreement. 
> 
> "Major?" the captain questioned. 
> 
> "That's fine with me. The sooner we can track this bastard, the better." 
> 
> "Okay. Jim, go ahead and take one of the meeting rooms." 
> 
> "Very good, sir." Jim opened the door and waited for the major and Blair to precede him. 
> 
> Several hours later the detective tossed the pages he'd been reading to the table with a heavy sigh. "I don't see anything in here that's particularly suspicious. Certainly nothing that corroborates our theory." 
> 
> Major Stoltz set down the pages he'd been going over. "I have to concur. Other than a six-week leave prior to his assignment to the 528th, there's nothing suggesting an abnormal amount of leave-taking. A three day pass here and there, but nothing significant. Certainly nothing giving him time to get to a victim's city, kill him, and get back to his post." 
> 
> Jim was silent for a few minutes. Sitting forward, he grabbed a different set of sheets. "It says here he was assigned to the 528th Support Battalion just before Christmas. Didn't the break-ins happen around late November early December?" 
> 
> "Yes. But the families reside all over the country. That's a lot of travel time, even with six weeks available." 
> 
> "So how's he doing it?" Jim asked himself, staring at the page in front of him. Abruptly he slapped the paper. "That's it! Damnit. Right in front of my face the whole time." 
> 
> "What, Jim? What's been right in front of you?" Blair asked, encouraged by the light of discovery he saw in his partner's eyes. 
> 
> "Before the 528th, Turnbow was part of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment. The man's a pilot! He can go anywhere on the damn planet he wants, given an aircraft. In the states he can get to anywhere and back in less than a day. No wonder we're not seeing a leave pattern." 
> 
> "What's the 160th do? For that matter, what's the 528th do?" Blair inquired. 
> 
> "The 160th provides air support for all Special Operations missions. Shuttle service, flying equipment in and out. Air to ground weapons support. That sort of thing. The 528th is another Special Forces support battalian." 
> 
> "But why transfer to the 528th from the 160th?" Stoltz asked. 
> 
> Jim looked over the documents more closely. "He didn't have a choice. Four weeks of that six-week hiatus were actually suspension time for 'hot-dogging' one too many times. His CO finally shipped him out." The detective set down the pages again, looking at the major. "If we could somehow track down his flight records, we might just figure out what this guy's been up to." 
> 
> Stoltz gave a firm nod. "I think I can get them. I'll do it first thing in the morning. He might also have caught a free ride on a transport now and then. I'll look into that as well." 
> 
> "That's a good idea." 
> 
> "So how does a pilot become so good at assassination?" Blair inquired. 
> 
> "Because he's not just a pilot. According to his records he's had some of the same training I had. He's been through Ranger School as well as Sniper School, though from the looks of it he didn't quite complete that one." 
> 
> "Great, so we're not just going after some average Joe Blo Army wacko, but an elite Joe Blo Army wacko who can fly wherever he wants." 
> 
> "That's about the size of it," Jim said tiredly. 

**May 7, Friday**

> When Blair came into the station that afternoon, he found Jim and Major Stoltz once again in an interrogation room. "Hey, Jim. Major." 
> 
> "Hey, Chief. How'd your meeting go?" 
> 
> "All right, I guess. They're giving me until the end of June to produce a draft. After that I'll have another two weeks to turn in the final. No extensions." Blair met his Sentinel's gaze with no small amount of worry, aware that his heart was beating rather fast. 
> 
> A faint smile twitched the corners of Jim's mouth as the older man reached up to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. "It's all right, Chief. I'll help you however I can, no complaints. Promise." 
> 
> Blair smiled. "Thanks, Jim." Placing his backpack on a chair, he dug through it for a moment. "Here. Thought you might want this." 
> 
> Jim took the white disk mailer with a frown. They all knew what it contained. Resignedly, the big man pulled the zip strip and dumped the coin into the evidence bag Blair was holding open, then took the bag. Jim looked at the coin long enough to read, "J. Turnbow, Sr., SFC". It was no surprise. With a grimace, the detective tossed the bit of silver on the table. 
> 
> "So what have I missed today?" Blair asked, sitting down next to Jim. 
> 
> "We've finally managed to trace Turnbow's steps over the last few months," Jim answered. 
> 
> "And?" 
> 
> "He's been in each of the cities prior to the murders." 
> 
> "That's good, isn't it?" 
> 
> "Not quite good enough, unfortunately. It proves he was in those cities on the right days and at the right time, but doesn't actually place him at the scenes. Unless we can turn up witnesses, we're at a dead end there." 
> 
> "Don't you have enough for surveillance now, though?" 
> 
> "We're keeping track of his movements as we speak," Major Stoltz answered. 
> 
> "Better news is that we've narrowed down our target list to four." 
> 
> "That's great! So, now what happens?" 
> 
> "We contact them and see if they'll consent to protection," Stoltz said. "I honestly think this has the best chance of catching our man." 
> 
> "And if they don't consent?" Blair asked. 
> 
> The major sighed. "We do the best we can." 
> 
> "We're not expecting him to make a move for another nine days, right? What do we do in the meantime?" 
> 
> "We watch and wait," Jim said. 
> 
> Blair made a face, but nodded in understanding. 

**May 17, Monday**

> Blair sat on the sofa, staring out the patio doors. It was three AM. A cup of cold tea sat forgotten on the end table. He knew he should be in bed asleep, but he was too worried. Although today would probably see the delivery of another coin, yesterday had actually been the ninth day. Everyone involved with the case had been on alert. Nothing had happened, or at least they hadn't heard about anything happening. Blair couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong. From the way Jim had been acting the last couple of days, he was sure the Sentinel felt it, too. 
> 
> The past week had been spent coordinating stakeouts across city and state jurisdictions for the four possible targets. The cities included Seattle, Boulder, Colorado, Tempe, Arizona, and Sacramento, California. Simon had managed to sweet-talk the various local police departments into providing a team in each city, and Major Stoltz along with Colonel Duffy had managed to gather enough men to provide support. The days had gone quickly. The nights were another matter. 
> 
> More than once over the last several days, Blair had awakened in the middle of the night and found his Sentinel standing watch at the balcony doors. When questioned, the big man had denied having any nightmares, but reluctantly admitted to feeling a certain restlessness. Blair thought he understood. Jim was a man of action. He needed to be doing something to capture this guy who was tormenting him, but for now, the man was out of his reach and all Jim could do was wait. Blair knew his friend could tolerate the waiting if it meant he could take action in the end, but when Jim had been informed that he could not be part of the Seattle stakeout, he'd nearly snapped. 
> 
> Cooler heads had prevailed, however, and convinced Jim that he was too emotionally involved in the case, that his presence could actually pose a danger to the other officers assigned, as well as himself. The detective had eventually agreed with the reasoning, but that didn't stop the Sentinel from prowling the loft in the middle of the night. 
> 
> "Hey, Chief. What're you doing up?" Jim's quiet voice cut through Blair's thoughts. 
> 
> "Can't sleep." Blair glanced at his roommate as the older man settled beside him. 
> 
> No words were spoken for several moments. Eventually Jim said quietly, "I know you're worried about today, but--" 
> 
> Blair cut him off. "Yes, I _am_ worried, and I'm scared--for you. If there was ever a day you really, really needed me, today would be the day. _And I can't be there for you!_ " His voice was strained. 
> 
> Jim laid a hand on the grad student's shoulder. "Chief--Blair, you did everything you could to find somebody to cover for you. I know that, you do, too. We both know things don't always go the way we want them to." 
> 
> "Yeah, I know." Blair sighed. "I guess the only good thing about it is I'm only proctoring exams. If I was lecturing, I'd be absolutely useless. Then again, if I was lecturing, I could cancel class." 
> 
> Jim chuckled softly. "Then I'd have to kick your butt for shirking your responsibilities to your students." 
> 
> Blair just shrugged, unwilling to let go of his melancholy just yet. He wanted--needed--to be with his partner today. "Promise me you'll keep me informed on what's going on?" 
> 
> "Sandburg, we've been through this already," Jim said with a touch of exasperation. His tone softened. "Yes. I told you, I'll keep you informed. Besides, I heard you give Simon orders to contact you if I don't." Jim smiled slightly, giving Blair's shoulder another squeeze. "Now, will you try to relax? I'm going to be safely at the station doing paperwork, and keeping in touch with Stoltz via phone." 
> 
> "'Relax', he says," Blair muttered. "I'm not the one who's been prowling around the loft at odd hours of the night." 
> 
> Jim cuffed him lightly on the head. "Sentinel's prerogative," he murmured. 
> 
> Blair stared at his friend for a moment, not sure he'd heard that right, but when Jim offered him a small smile, he realized he had. _Sentinel's prerogative, huh? Never thought I'd hear him admit it._
> 
> "Come on, Chief, let's try and get some sleep." 
> 
> Reluctantly, he nodded and allowed Jim to pull him to his feet. 
> 
> Several hours later Blair found himself fidgeting uncomfortably in a chair beside the classroom entrance as his first class took their exams. He tried to put the time to good use and work on his paper, but he couldn't concentrate. After a seemingly endless hour and a half, Blair called time and the remaining test takers reluctantly handed him their bluebooks. For the next period, the teaching fellow retreated to his office, then was back in the classroom. In that time, Jim called twice to let him know there had been no change. 
> 
> During the following period, Blair managed to relax enough to begin grading the tests from the first class. Even so, the next ninety minutes were grueling in their slowness. Once the last of the tests from this group were handed in and subsequently stuffed into his backpack, he all but ran to his office. 
> 
> "Jim!" Blair was pleasantly surprised to find his partner waiting in his office. 
> 
> "Hey, Chief. Thought we could grab some lunch together." 
> 
> "Sure, man, that'd be great! How 'bout that Greek place over by the deli across campus?" 
> 
> "Sounds good." 
> 
> Blair dumped his backpack on the floor next to his desk, grabbed his jacket and followed Jim out the door. "So, nothing's happened?" he asked on the way to the truck. 
> 
> Jim shook his head. "Nothing." 
> 
> The Guide was relieved to hear this, because it meant his partner hadn't had to deal with any fallout without him. Part of him was disappointed, however. He'd hoped Turnbow would've been apprehended by now so they could start getting some answers, and begin putting this whole thing behind them. 
> 
> Over a leisurely lunch, the two men began to relax in the soothing comfort of each other's presence. Blair admitted that, as expected, he hadn't been worth much during the morning hours. About all he'd accomplished was one paragraph on his dissertation and four graded tests. Jim confessed to not getting much paperwork finished and being testy enough to have Simon threatening to lock him in an interrogation room. 
> 
> When they got back to campus and Jim pulled into a parking space, Blair looked at his partner quizzically. 
> 
> The big man gave him a rather sheepish look. "You've only got the one class this afternoon, right?" 
> 
> Blair nodded, waiting. 
> 
> "Well, Simon kinda ordered me to stick around. Maybe ordered is too strong a word, but he made it clear I was to stay here." 
> 
> Blair chuckled as they got out of the truck. "Simon's got a lot of faith in me, doesn't he, if he thinks I can keep an eye on you?" 
> 
> "Why, you don't think you can?" 
> 
> The grad student stopped, turned, and stared wide-eyed up at his partner. "All right, who are you, and what have you done with the real Jim Ellison?" 
> 
> Jim threw back his head and laughed. Slinging an arm around Blair's shoulders, the detective began heading them toward the Anthro building. "I'm not _that_ bad, am I?" 
> 
> Blair just shook his head. "Jim, you don't know the half of it." 
> 
> Without removing his arm totally from Blair's shoulders the detective reached up and tapped him on the head. "Then I guess we'll just have to keep an eye on each other." 
> 
> "Always, man, always." Blair grinned, falling into easy step with his partner. "Thanks, man," he murmured, realizing the purpose of their banter. He felt the arm around his shoulders tighten briefly, then fall away. 
> 
> They continued toward Hargrove Hall in companionable silence for a bit. "Did you mean it when you said you'd help me any way you could with my paper?" Blair asked quietly. 
> 
> Jim sighed quietly. "Yeah, Chief, I meant it. When you weren't stalling, I was stalling, or at least attempting to stifle you, and now your entire academic career is at stake. As much as it scares me, I'm willing to do what you need in order to finish your dissertation." 
> 
> Knowing how much effort it took Jim to admit that, Blair didn't want to spoil the mood by calling attention to it. Instead, he focused on the offer itself. Blair quivered with excitement. His voice shook only a little when he said, "You know, my next class isn't until two. We could pass some time with a Q&A?" 
> 
> His partner hesitated only for a second before nodding his consent. 
> 
> "Great!" Blair allowed himself one bounce, then continued walking. 
> 
> The next hour was spent in the grad student's office with Blair asking questions and Jim doing his best to answer them honestly. When two o'clock rolled around, Blair rushed off to proctor his last class, feeling more lighthearted than he had in a very long time. The ninety minute period seemed to fly. 
> 
> "What?" Blair heard his partner yell as he approached his office. Quietly he entered, shutting the door behind him. 
> 
> "What do you mean, he got away?" 
> 
> _Uh-oh. This doesn't sound good._ Blair's lighthearted mood quickly vanished as he realized Jim was talking to someone on the surveillance task force. He set his backpack down and went to stand in front of his partner. Blair watched as Jim's jaw muscle continued to tighten. The big man's whole body was rigid with tension. He knew if this kept up Jim was going to give himself one hell of a headache. Just what he didn't need. 
> 
> Blair reached out and barely touched his partner's wrist, drawing Jim's gaze to him. The Guide locked onto those icy blue eyes, silently conveying the fact he was there, ready and willing to provide the anchor. As he watched, the ice transmuted into something just as sharp but not as brittle, the tension easing slightly. 
> 
> A few more terse words were spoken, then Jim snapped the cell phone shut. The detective continued to gaze at Blair, his eyes now flashing angrily. Blair waited expectantly. 
> 
> "Turnbow managed to slip surveillance. Mitchell Widden is missing." 
> 
> Blair paled. Mitchell Widden was the Seattle target. "Oh, man." 
> 
> Jim jerked his head in agreement, turning to gaze out the window. "If only I'd been there." 
> 
> Blair looked up from his contemplation of the floor. He recognized that statement for what it was. Jim was blaming himself. He felt the bond between them resonate, and he realized the Sentinel was teetering on the verge of shutdown. "Whoa, man! Don't even go there." Blair moved around in front of his partner, and gripped Jim's arms. Shaking him firmly as he gazed up into those sky-blue eyes, he said, "Man, don't you dare shut down on me! This isn't your fault, damnit. Even if you had been in Seattle, you don't know that you could have prevented it." 
> 
> Jim blinked slowly, and finally refocused on Blair's face. "But if I had been there, I might have spotted Turnbow. Captured him." 
> 
> "'Might have', is the operative phrase here, man," Blair said earnestly, still gripping Jim's arms. "If you had been in Seattle, Turnbow might have struck somewhere else. The fact that he slipped surveillance tells me he knew he was being watched. If he knew he was being watched, he probably figures you're on to him." 
> 
> Jim nodded again. "Yeah. You're right, Chief. But damn it!" 
> 
> "I know, Jim. I was hoping we'd have this all wrapped up today, too. I had a feeling something was gonna go wrong." 
> 
> His partner smiled slightly. "Yeah, me too." 
> 
> "Have they found--Widden's body yet?" Blair let go of Jim's arms and moved a step back. 
> 
> "No. There's no sign of anything. No body. No sign of forced entry. Nothing." 
> 
> "Maybe Widden's still alive." 
> 
> "Why would Turnbow kidnap Widden when he's already murdered four men?" 
> 
> Blair threw up his arms in exasperation. "I don't know, man. Maybe he felt there was too much heat around the place and took him to a more secluded spot. I have no idea." 
> 
> "Maybe. You're right, though." 
> 
> "About what?" 
> 
> "Until they find a body or indications that Widden was killed, this has to be treated as an abduction. Damn, this is definitely going to bring the Feds in now." 
> 
> Blair grimaced at the thought, but knew his partner was probably right. "Do you suppose it'd help to contact the Northwest Region head directly?" 
> 
> "That's not a bad idea, Chief. Since we've worked with the Director before, maybe he won't be averse to letting us continue the investigation." 
> 
> "It's worth a shot." 
> 
> "You finished here?" 
> 
> "Yep. Let me grab a few more things, then we can get out of here." 
> 
> From the university they went straight back to the station. Simon was on the phone when the partners entered his office. From the sound of it, he was talking to his counterpart in Seattle about the botched stakeout, and attempting to hold on to his temper. 
> 
> A few minutes later the captain hung up, a frown deeply etched in his face, but his shoulders slumped a little. He looked up at the two men, leaning back in his chair. "That was Lieutenant Tuckerman in Seattle. He assures me that his detail was on full alert. They saw no one leave or enter Mitchell Widden's residence for the past two days. Until I have reason to believe otherwise, I have to accept his word that his officers didn't screw up. Of course, if Turnbow lost his surveillance, then it's entirely possible he could have sneaked past a stakeout." 
> 
> Jim nodded in resignation. Banks gave his best detective a worried look, then met Blair's intense gaze. No words were necessary; they saw the knowledge in each other's eyes. Jim was being targeted in a personal vendetta, and the perp was playing very dirty pool. The captain knew as well as a certain anthropologist that if they didn't apprehend Turnbow, and soon, Jim was going to self-destruct. 
> 
> The next few hours were tumultuous. Calls were placed and teams were assembled. With the apparent kidnapping of Widden, the case was now technically a Federal investigation, but Jordan Whitney, FBI Director of the Northwest Region, had agreed to let Jim, and the Major Crime division of the Cascade PD spearhead the operation, since they knew all the details. Whitney had issued a Federal warrant for Jake Turnbow, Jr.'s arrest, and was sending a team of investigators to the Widden residence. 
> 
> Major Stoltz was on his way back from New Mexico where he had been heading up the local operation. He had contacted the commander of Turnbow's unit and informed him of the situation. If their suspect returned to his post, the MPs would arrest him. 
> 
> It was now a Federal manhunt. 
> 
> Eventually the furor died down, as the various team members settled into their assigned tasks. It was full dark by the time the last of the task force left the captain's office. With a tired sigh, Simon leaned back in his chair and looked over at the lone figure standing in front of the windows. "Jim, you might as well go home. You've done all you can here for the night." When there was no response, Banks looked to the man's partner, who was still sitting at the conference table, his own focus on the Sentinel. "Sandburg." 
> 
> Blair blinked, and turned his head. 
> 
> Simon jerked his head toward Jim. "Take your partner home. I know he's been losing sleep again, and God knows this situation isn't going to help matters, but try to get him to sleep." 
> 
> Blair nodded, and stood up, the chair scraping loudly across the floor. Jim didn't react. Casting a worried glance at Simon, he moved around the table to reach his partner. The detective stood almost statue-still, but his eyes were bright and his mouth was closed. _Not a standard zone, then._ Blair laid a gentle hand on his friend's arm. Jim's gaze shifted down to meet Blair's concerned blue eyes. "Jim?" 
> 
> The corners of Jim's mouth twitched upward slightly, then he took a deep breath. Letting it out, he raised his arm and draped it around Blair's shoulders, pulling him in toward the big man's side. Startled, the anthropologist returned the hug reflexively. _What's goin' on?_ They stood that way for several moments, neither man saying anything. Blair was confused, until he detected the tiny tremors in the larger form. He understood then, and tightened his hold on the bigger man. For a moment, Blair felt Jim leaning a little more into him, and finally the tremors stilled. Jim straightened, releasing Blair with a light squeeze to his shoulder. Sentinel and Guide looked at each other, strength offered and accepted in that gaze. They shared a smile. 
> 
> "Come on, Chief. I believe the man said something about going home." 
> 
> "I'm for that. See you tomorrow, Simon." The grad student picked up his backpack and scooted out the door. 
> 
> "Good night, Simon," Jim said before following his partner. 
> 
> The odd peace they had attained in Simon's office lasted through supper at their favorite Chinese restaurant, through the ride home, and into the building. When Jim opened the mailbox and saw the white disk-mailer among the bills, the mood abruptly ended. 
> 
> Blair gripped his friend's elbow. "Jim, man, stay with me here, okay?" 
> 
> Jim gave his head a hard shake, then glanced down at Blair. "I'm all right, Chief. I'd just forgotten what day it was, somehow." 
> 
> Blair didn't bother to mention that the possible reason he'd forgotten was because they had been concentrating on capturing Turnbow. The grad student didn't think reminding his partner of the failed stakeout would be such a good idea. Instead, he simply stepped into the elevator with Jim. 
> 
> Once upstairs, the latest coin was quickly removed from its cardboard container and placed in an evidence bag. The name they expected, "C. Walker, SFC", was engraved on the banner. In a surreal way, it was a relief to know their hypothesis had been correct. 
> 
> _He stared at Hill. *I should do something,* he thought, but even as he attempted to move, the blood stopped flowing. No! Kelly! The words of denial finally galvanized him to action and he scrambled back into the helicopter. He reached out to touch his friend's neck with shaking hands. There was no pulse. Sinking back on his heels, he looked at the body. Gently turning it over revealed the three-inch piece of metal protruding from Hill's chest. He wiped a hand over his eyes, attempting to erase the image. It didn't go away. He turned his head. Numbly, he surveyed the carnage around him. Six men were sprawled in a tangle of limbs across the deck, three with faces blistered and burned beyond recognition. Hill had apparently been thrown clear of the jumble and ended up at the right-hand crew door._
> 
> _He heard a noise. It took a moment for it to register. When he heard it again, his head snapped around to gaze at the bodies. It came again. There were survivors! He moved quickly to discover how many and how badly they were hurt._
> 
> Jim moaned softly, his brows furrowing in his sleep. 
> 
> _He moved his left hand to the back of Andersen's head, holding his chin in the other. With one quick, fluid motion he twisted the sergeant's neck, deftly snapping the vertebrae._
> 
> "No!" Jim's eyes popped open as he gasped. Relaxing back into the mattress, he raised his hands to rub at his eyes. 
> 
> "Jim?" 
> 
> Ellison turned and looked through the railing to the floor below. Blair was sitting on the couch, bluebooks spread around him, looking up at Jim in concern. "You all right, man?" 
> 
> "Yeah, fine. Sorry I disturbed you, Chief." 
> 
> Blair waved the apology aside. "You want to talk about it?" 
> 
> There was a long pause. "I don't know if I can." 
> 
> Blair took that as a silent plea, and bounded quietly up the steps. By the dim light of the lamp below, he made his way to Jim's bed and sat down on the corner. The larger man swung his legs out from under the covers and sat up. 
> 
> The grad student waited quietly for a few moments. When nothing was forthcoming, he asked, "You've sounded kind of restless since about midnight. What was this one about?" 
> 
> Jim gazed up at the high windows. Blair wondered if he was using his Sentinel-sight to look at the stars or if he was just staring. "I killed one of my men." 
> 
> Blair didn't know what he'd expected, but it definitely wasn't this. _Okay, Blair. Careful how you handle this one._ "Do you know why?" 
> 
> Jim dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head. 
> 
> "Was he engaged in something illegal and you were trying to apprehend him? Did you have to shoot him?" 
> 
> Another head shake. "No. He wasn't running, and I didn't shoot him. I--I think he was hurt, and I--I broke his neck." 
> 
> "Okay," Blair said quietly. "Let's think about this. We--I know you don't kill people in cold blood, so there had to be a good reason." 
> 
> "Are you sure about that, Sandburg?" 
> 
> "I am." Blair met the older man's eyes with complete conviction. Jim finally looked away, embarrassed. "What we need to do is get you to think back. Your dreams lately have been about Peru, right? Could this have been another one?" 
> 
> Jim nodded. 
> 
> "Okay. Lie back, relax, do your breathing." 
> 
> "Sandburg--" 
> 
> "Jim," Blair cut him off. "Do you want to find out what happened and why, or not?" 
> 
> "What if I don't like what I find out?" 
> 
> "This is about facing your fears, Jim. Don't be afraid of your visions. Running from them only gets you into more trouble." 
> 
> Jim sat very still for a moment, his expression stunned. 
> 
> "What? What is it?" 
> 
> Jim blinked, then lay down as Blair had directed him. "Incacha said virtually the same thing to me." 
> 
> "Incacha? When?" 
> 
> "Last year, after--after the ordeal with Alex. He told me not to be afraid to walk in my dreams, that only by walking in them could I understand." Jim's voice was ragged. He seemed shaken by the revelation. 
> 
> "Last year? And you're just now telling me about this?" 
> 
> "I'd forgotten it. With everything else, I just--it slipped my mind." 
> 
> Blair waved the explanation aside. "Fine, fine. That's over with, now we need to concentrate on this latest dream. I have a feeling this is just one more guilt factor that needs to be dealt with and put to rest for good." 
> 
> Jim shrugged. 
> 
> "Close your eyes, Jim. Do your breathing. Now go to the place where the helicopter crashed. You're with your men." Blair's voice trailed off, watching Jim's face go lax as it always did when he dived into trance. 
> 
> _"Captain!"_
> 
> _"I'm here, Andersen." He squeezed a tiny bit of water from the soaked cloth onto his sergeant's lips. The intelligence officer gasped but managed to lick at the moisture._
> 
> _"Ahh! Captain, sir--please?"_
> 
> _"Save your strength, buddy," he crooned, trying to ease his man's discomfort. He quickly checked the other two survivors. Survivors. Pffaw. He scoffed at himself. They were all going to die. The best he could hope to do was stay with them and attempt to ease their pain._
> 
> _His engineer had a piece of shrapnel in his side, and it was quite obvious he was bleeding to death internally. His XO had a severe head injury and gashes from flying bits of glass and metal. Surprisingly he was conscious and relatively coherent. How long he was going to stay that way was anyone's guess. Of the three mortally wounded men, Andersen was the most severely injured, though his death was likely to be long in coming. The intelligence officer was burned over much of his body, his face and hands black and blistered. He was blind from the missile's exhaust trail. Much of his left side was shattered from where he'd been thrown against the winch in the back of the aircraft. Ellison knew that even if rescue came right then, Andersen would die anyway, but it was going to be a painful, lingering death. He gulped at the thought, wishing there was something more he could do._
> 
> _"End it, sir, please?" Andersen implored, as if in answer to his wish._
> 
> _"No!"_
> 
> _"I'm dead anyway, sir." The sergeant could barely speak._
> 
> _"Andersen," he began, but was interrupted as an injudicious move by Andersen caused the man to scream in agony._
> 
> _"Captain," the sergeant said several minutes later, gasping for breath, "please don't make me suffer like this. I'm gonna die. We both know it. Question is when. Do I suffer first, or go quietly?"_
> 
> _He looked at the other two men. Both were gazing at him calmly. They knew and agreed with Andersen's request, even if he didn't. He closed his eyes. When Andersen gasped and cried out, he opened them again. "All right," he whispered. "Give me a minute to check the others."_
> 
> _"Thanks, Cap." The intelligence officer's reply was a whimper of relief._
> 
> _Ellison nodded, though Andersen couldn't see it, and moved over to the other two men. He gave them water and gently tended their wounds._
> 
> _When Andersen cried out again, he quit stalling and returned to the sergeant's side. "Okay, Andersen. I'm here."_
> 
> _Andersen barely moved his head in a nod._
> 
> _"I'm going to lift you up a little and get under your shoulders, okay? Hang on." As gently and smoothly as he could, he lifted Andersen and slid his knees under the man's back and shoulders. He eased his left arm around the front of the sergeant, gripping Andersen's far shoulder. He placed his other hand gently under Andersen's chin, ignoring the sticky, oozing mess of burned flesh._
> 
> _Andersen inhaled sharply at the touch, but only whimpered._
> 
> _Ellison bent forward, leaning his forehead against the top of Andersen's head. Closing his eyes again, he asked, "Are you sure?"_
> 
> _"Yes, Captain."_
> 
> _"Ready?"_
> 
> _"I'm ready. No regrets, Captain. It was a pleasure serving with you, sir."_
> 
> _"You, too," he murmured. He straightened. Without opening his eyes, he moved his left hand to the back of Andersen's head, took a deep breath, and in one quick, fluid motion, snapped the man's neck. Afterwards he sat there, hugging the sergeant to him, silent tears squeezing out from beneath closed lids._
> 
> Jim opened his eyes. Blair had watched in concern as tears began to course down his friend's cheeks, but he hadn't wanted to interrupt the quest. Now, he waited expectantly for Jim to speak. 
> 
> Jim wiped at his eyes before drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Finally, he met Blair's gaze. "It was Andersen, my intelligence officer. He was hurt pretty bad. Third degree burns on his face and torso, broken ribs and other bones. He was bleeding internally. He was in a lot of pain. He was dying. He asked me to end it for him. At first I refused. I didn't think I could do it, but he was in agony. He knew as well as I did that he was going to die whether we got rescued right then or not. The question was whether or not he was going to have to suffer. So I--did what he asked." This last was barely a whisper. 
> 
> While the Sentinel had been visiting his memories, Blair had rearranged his position on the bed. Now he was actually sitting in lotus position on the other side of the big man. He reached out and laid a hand on Jim's arm. "Remember when I told Alex you had compassion in spades?" 
> 
> Ellison nodded slightly. 
> 
> "This is just another example of that compassion, Jim." 
> 
> The detective snorted in disbelief. 
> 
> "Jim, if you'd had morphine or something like that you would have drugged him into oblivion, right?" 
> 
> "Probably." 
> 
> "He would have been without pain, but lingered for days, eventually dying. Without the drugs he would have suffered unspeakable pain and lingered for days, eventually dying. He asked you to let him die with dignity, and you gave that to him, Jim. You can't get much more compassionate than that." 
> 
> His friend sighed, reluctantly acknowledging Blair's reasoning with a nod. "I still don't know how 'right' it was, but now that I remember what happened, I don't feel guilty about it. I wouldn't have done it if he hadn't asked me, actually begged me. I couldn't turn him down." 
> 
> "Of course not, Jim. He was your friend. The situation was extreme. He was dying. You eased his suffering the only way you could." 
> 
> "I get it, Chief. I know." 
> 
> Blair let it drop, confident that Jim was okay with the memory. "You think you can go back to sleep now?" 
> 
> "Yeah. It's getting late, Chief. Hope I didn't put you too far behind in your grading." 
> 
> "Nah. I'm okay. I want this set done before Wednesday, but none of them have to be posted until Friday." Blair got off the bed as Jim punched his pillow into a more comfortable position. 
> 
> "Okay, then try not to stay up too much later." 
> 
> "I won't." Blair made his way to the stairs. "Good night, Jim." 
> 
> "Night, Chief." 
> 
> Blair glanced once more at his partner, smiled, and continued down the steps. 
> 
> _He raised his head, and looked back at the other two. There were no recriminations in their eyes, only tears. Gently, he eased Andersen's body to the deck and moved to check on them. His engineer was hanging on, but still bleeding internally._
> 
> _"You did what was necessary, Captain," Sarris said honestly._
> 
> _He simply nodded, not entirely sure that was true. Making Sarris as comfortable as possible, he turned his attention to his XO. How the man was still conscious, let alone coherent, he didn't know._
> 
> _"Captain, gotta tell ya somethin'."_
> 
> _"Shh, don't talk, Crouse," he murmured as he wiped the man's brow with a wet cloth._
> 
> _"No, gotta tell you. Tell Joycetell Joyce I loved herand I'm sorry I won't be there to help raise our granddaughter. Tell her--Tell her that I'll be lookin' over her, her and little Elizabeth, and David too. Promise me?"_
> 
> _Tears stung his eyes as he continued to administer what comfort he could._
> 
> _"Please, sir. Promise me?"_
> 
> _"I promise," he whispered brokenly._
> 
> _"Thanks, Jim." With those simple words, Crouse finally lost consciousness._
> 
> Jim whimpered, and rolled over. His brow furrowed. Unconsciously, Jim reached out his senses and tagged Blair's heartbeat in the room below. He let the familiar rhythm soothe him. Quietly, he sighed, and drifted into a deeper sleep. 
> 
> _Lowering Crouse to the deck, he moved back to Sarris. The engineer was in a lot of pain himself, but by no means the agony Andersen had been suffering. With the medical supplies destroyed there wasn't much Ellison could do, and both men knew it. He clamped his jaw at his helplessness._
> 
> _Sarris gave him a brave smile. "This is a fine mess, isn't it, Captain?"_
> 
> _He grimaced, but nodded in agreement as he gently probed the sergeant's side._
> 
> _"Don't blame yourself, Captain. There was nothing you could do."_
> 
> _He didn't reply._
> 
> _A tiny chuckle from Sarris._
> 
> _"Ellison, take it from an old war dog, there will always be things you can't fix or change, no matter how badly you want to. It's a fact of life."_
> 
> _"Knowing doesn't make it any easier."_
> 
> _"No. No it doesn't." There was a sharp intake of breath._
> 
> _He tried to ease the pain slightly, but it only seemed to be getting worse. He closed his eyes against the knowledge. He opened them again when a hand clamped around his arm._
> 
> _"Sarris! Hold on, buddy."_
> 
> _"It's too late for me, sir."_
> 
> _He swallowed, knowing it was true, but wanting to deny it._
> 
> _"Complete the mission, Captain." Brown eyes slowly closed for the last time._
> 
> _He bowed his head in defeat. Finally, he went to the remaining man and took up one last vigil. An hour later, Crouse slipped silently into death, never regaining consciousness._
> 
> Jim drew in a ragged breath, and rolled onto his back. 

* * *


	7. Silver Cloud, Dark Lining -- Part 6

* * *

> "You look like hell. Weren't you able to get back to sleep?" Blair asked from his position at the stove as Jim came down the stairs buttoning a shirt. 
> 
> "Good morning to you, too." 
> 
> "Sorry. Morning, Jim," the grad student said, waiting expectantly. 
> 
> Jim sat down at the table where Blair had already set his mug full of coffee and a glass of orange juice. "Yeah, I slept, but I think it was all dreams." 
> 
> "More bad ones? I didn't hear you." Blair scooped eggs, sausages, and toast onto two plates, then carried them to the table. 
> 
> Jim shrugged, picking up his fork and digging into his breakfast. "Something I could have done without, but not particularly bad." 
> 
> "Want to talk about it?" 
> 
> "Nothing really to talk about. It was just more stuff about the crash. Mainly Sarris and Crouse. How I tried to help them before they died." 
> 
> "What did you do?" 
> 
> Jim shrugged again. "There wasn't much I could do. Sarris was bleeding to death internally, and Crouse had a severe head injury. He lost consciousness before Ben died, then passed away about an hour after." 
> 
> Blair took a sip of his orange juice, surprised by his partner's openness. "You seem unusually--I don't know--serene about it all?" 
> 
> Jim looked up at him, nodding slightly. "Yeah, I guess. I feel--relieved somehow. Like after remembering what I did for Andersen, the rest didn't seem so--threatening I suppose." 
> 
> "That's good, man. That probably means you're finally starting to deal with what happened. Maybe you're finally letting go of some of the guilt that wasn't yours to begin with." 
> 
> The detective smiled, getting up from his chair. "Maybe. You finished?" 
> 
> Blair nodded and Jim took their plates to the kitchen. 
> 
> "You coming in this morning?" Ellison asked. 
> 
> "Yeah." 

**May 20, Thursday**

> Blair sighed and glanced up at the clock. 7:12 AM. He shivered involuntarily, and not entirely from the early morning chill in the air. He'd been at his office for almost an hour already. Why? Because he'd finally found someone willing to proctor his last final later in the morning, but the tradeoff had been promising to finish grading her own finals. Blair had accepted the terms without hesitation. Cindy was half-way through grading already, and her tests were multiple choice and short answer questions. He'd figured he'd come in early to finish the grading and be done in time to spend the majority of the day with Jim. Blair shivered again. He hadn't counted on the deja vu he was feeling, however. 
> 
> Tossing his pen down, Blair leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. The last few days had been nerve-wracking. Despite the efforts of Major Crime, the FBI, Stoltz, and now the Military Police because Turnbow was officially AWOL, there had been no further sign of Turnbow or Widden. With each day Widden remained missing, the chances of finding him alive dwindled. Blair knew that fact alone was weighing heavily on Jim's mind. The only bright spot in all of this was that the nightmares seemed to have stopped, or at least weren't as traumatic as they had been. Whatever the reason, Jim was getting more sleep. Blair had the feeling his friend was going to need every ounce of that rest. Just as he had three days ago, the Guide had the distinct impression something bad was going to happen, and very soon. The shiver that overtook him rattled his teeth with its intensity. He frowned. 
> 
> Even if they didn't have the coin situation to deal with, Blair knew that this day was going to be especially hard for both of them. Yet another reason he wanted--needed--to stick close to Jim. Today marked the day he had died at the hands of Alex Barnes, thief, terrorist, and rival sentinel. 
> 
> Blair shook himself out of the unpleasant memory, and resolutely shoved it aside. Picking up his pen, he concentrated on grading. If he pushed, he could have the rest of the tests graded in under an hour, then he could get out of here. 
> 
> He was just marking the score on the last test when he felt it. The Sentinel needed the Guide, _now_! Blair scribbled a note for Cindy, scooped up the pile of bluebooks and dumped them in his out box. Quickly stuffing a few items into his backpack, he grabbed his jacket and prepared to leave. The cord between them was practically humming in his head. 
> 
> "Simon!" Blair exclaimed in surprise, brought up short by the captain's appearance in his doorway. 
> 
> "Sandburg, what...? Don't look so frightened. Jim's fine." 
> 
> "Then why are you here?" 
> 
> "I came to pick you up. We've got a hostage situation. Jim's on his way there now." 
> 
> "Alone?" 
> 
> Banks scowled. "No. Why do you think I'm here? Now, let's go." 
> 
> Blair didn't have to be told twice. He ushered the captain out of the office, and pulled the door shut behind them. 
> 
> "So, what's the story?" the observer asked once they were in the car. 
> 
> Simon sighed, looking worried. "The story is, Jim called me. Told me there's some kind of hostage situation at the North Cascade airstrip." 
> 
> "Turnbow," Blair said with a nod. 
> 
> "We don't know that yet, Sandburg." 
> 
> "Come on, Simon. Who else could it be?" 
> 
> "You don't _really_ want me to answer that, do you?" Simon cast him a knowing look. "But, yeah, it's probably Turnbow." 
> 
> "Did Jim say anything else? How'd he find out about it? Are the FBI and MPs converging there, too?" 
> 
> The captain held up his hand to forestall the flow of words. "Jim said a man called him at the loft, said he had a valuable hostage, and if we wanted her to get out of this alive, Jim would come. Right now, just Major Crime is involved. Once we assess the situation, we'll call in the others." 
> 
> "Not good, man. Not good." 
> 
> "Why, other than the fact we have a hostage situation on our hands?" 
> 
> "The guy just told Jim to come or else?" 
> 
> Simon nodded. 
> 
> "Doesn't that strike you as odd?" 
> 
> Banks scowled. "Why should it?" 
> 
> "Come on, Simon. Think about it. There was no stipulation to come alone? You know, 'Come alone, if I see your cop buddies or anyone else, I'll waste her.' kind of warnings?" 
> 
> "Now that you bring it up, Jim didn't say. I just figured it was implied, but knew he'd call me regardless." 
> 
> "Yeah, but he didn't tell you not to call Stoltz or the FBI task force, did he?" 
> 
> The captain shook his head, his expression turning fearful. 
> 
> Blair gazed at the large man knowingly. "Cold, Simon. This guy is one cold, cunning, cocky son of a bitch. He must be pretty confident he holds all the cards if he didn't warn Jim not to bring backup." 
> 
> Simon ran a hand over his mouth. "I hope you're wrong, Blair. I sincerely hope you're wrong." 
> 
> Blair nodded, pursing his lips as he turned his eyes to the front. A few minutes of silence passed. "What else?" 
> 
> The captain glanced at his passenger. "What?" 
> 
> "There's something else bothering you, besides this hostage situation we both know is a set up." 
> 
> The big man looked like he was going to deny the charge, but relented after another glance at Blair. Sighing, he said, "I don't know, really. Jim sounded strange. Remote. Reminded me of what he was like when he came out of Vice." 
> 
> "Remote? That doesn't sound good." 
> 
> Simon nodded once. "I got the feeling he wasn't telling me everything." 
> 
> Blair snorted. "Not like that hasn't happened before." 
> 
> Banks gave the observer a fierce glare, but a moment later his expression softened. Blair smiled slightly. They both knew it was true. 
> 
> Simon cleared his throat and changed the uncomfortable subject. "So, what had you in such a rush? You looked like you were in a hurry to get somewhere until you saw me." 
> 
> Blair nodded. "We're doing it." 
> 
> "Come again?" 
> 
> "A few minutes before you showed up, I got this strong urge that I needed to get to Jim, that he needed--needs me. We're answering that urge." 
> 
> "Damn, I don't know why I ask. Sandburg, are you telling me this is some kind of sentinel thing?" 
> 
> "What? The situation? Hardly. The situation is something from Jim's military past and has little or nothing to do with him being a sentinel. But what I'm feeling is definitely a Sentinel-Guide thing." Blair paused, then rushed on. "We've always had a kind of bond, but ever since the Alex mess we've had this--connection. I _know_ when he needs me. Sometimes it's just a faint tugging, other times it's an all out alarm. Right now it's virtually screaming 'the Sentinel _needs_ his Guide'." 
> 
> "And Jim knows this, too?" Simon asked skeptically. 
> 
> Blair grinned. "Oh, Jim knows it. He even acknowledges it, but he won't think about it unless forced to. However, he no longer ignores it either." 
> 
> The captain shook his head, and concentrated on driving. Several minutes passed. Finally, with a softly muttered oath, Simon reached for the mike and radioed dispatch. 
> 
> Blair watched and listened silently as Simon ordered the dispatcher to contact Major Stoltz and their liaison with the FBI task force. When the captain put the mike back moments later, Blair met the big man's gaze and nodded slightly. 
> 
> The rest of the journey was quiet, each man lost in his own musings. Each man worried about what his friend might be walking into, both convinced that whatever it was, it wasn't going to end easily or prettily. Blair sent up a silent prayer of thanks that in the last few days, Jim had achieved some small degree of peace and been able to sleep. That would mean his Sentinel would have a fighting chance against whatever was in store. 
> 
> Fifteen minutes later, Simon pulled through the gates of North Cascade's abandoned airstrip. It was just a small collection of metal buildings and two landing strips. The place seemed deserted. The captain allowed the big sedan to creep along as they approached the hangar buildings. They rounded a curve and Blair's gasp echoed Simon's as the car stopped. 
> 
> "Oh, shit," Simon murmured. 
> 
> "My sentiments exactly," Blair said softly, staring out the windshield. About fifty yards away, a big, black helicopter sat placidly on the grassy wide-open airfield. Its sleek lines conveyed power and swiftness, and though there was no evidence of any armament, the observer had no doubt that the thing packed a lethal punch. Not taking his eyes off the machine, he followed Simon's example and eased himself out of the car. He joined the other man at the front of the vehicle, still staring. 
> 
> "I guess any doubts about there being hostages just went out the window, huh?" 
> 
> Simon only nodded, eyes never leaving the helicopter. 
> 
> Suspended in the open crew door via a parachute harness and looking absolutely terrified was an eleven or twelve-year-old girl. She was gagged. Her ankles were tied or taped together, and her hands had been bound to the release rings on the harness. If she attempted to move her arms she'd take a fifteen-foot drop straight down. 
> 
> Blair tore his eyes away from the frightening scene and scanned the area. "Where's Jim? I don't see the truck anywhere." 
> 
> Simon glanced around, shaking his head. "I don't either. Damn. Where the hell could he be?" 
> 
> Just then they heard tires crunch on the gravel and turned to see Jim's familiar blue and white Ford coming toward them. The truck pulled up beside them. Blair could see his partner staring at the captive girl, his jaw muscle clearly telegraphing his anger. Keeping his head down, Blair moved to the truck as Ellison cut the engine and stepped silently from the cab. The observer's mouth fell open when he got a good look at him. He was shocked and impressed at the same time, because he'd never expected to see this Jim Ellison in person. 
> 
> Standing before him was a poster boy for the U.S. Army. The man was wearing a set of green Army fatigues, complete with rank and insignia. As Blair stared at his friend, Jim reached back into the truck and retrieved something. That something turned out to be a green beret that the former Ranger carefully situated on his head. 
> 
> "Jim? What's this?" Blair waved his hand at his friend's attire. 
> 
> By now Simon had joined them. 
> 
> "It was part of the terms. Turnbow told me to come in uniform or not bother coming at all because he'd kill the little girl." 
> 
> "Terms?" Simon questioned. "Just what else have you agreed to, Ellison?" 
> 
> Jim returned the cool brown gaze steadily. "Nothing yet, sir. He stipulated that I had to come wearing my BDUs, and forego the cap for the beret. No weapons allowed other than my fighting knife." 
> 
> Simon did not look happy. "We're talking hostage exchange here, aren't we?" 
> 
> "Yes, sir, I believe so." 
> 
> "And you expect me to let you do it?" 
> 
> "I doubt that we'll have a choice, sir. Look at where he's positioned himself. He's out in the open. No one can sneak up on him." Jim paused to let his eyesight zoom in on the ground around the helicopter. "He has land mines covering the perimeter all the way around the Black Hawk. There appears to be only one clear path, which leads straight to the crew door and the girl. There's another mine directly beneath her. And, that's not all. There's an electrical barrier surrounding the whole thing, probably rigged to set off the mines if it's breached." 
> 
> "Damn," Simon swore softly. 
> 
> "Jim, can you tell if Turnbow's in the chopper? Is the girl all right?" Blair asked. 
> 
> The Sentinel turned his attention back to the helicopter, letting his sight and hearing expand. "Turnbow and another man are near the cockpit. The girl appears unhurt. Frightened and crying, but she's okay." He paused, turning up his hearing a little more. "I hear three other heartbeats--toward the back." 
> 
> "More men with Turnbow?" 
> 
> Jim shrugged, unsure. "They're not moving, and they seem close together." 
> 
> Before anything else could be said, the three men turned at the approach of vehicles. Blair picked out the sedan associated with their local FBI guys, and Major Stoltz's rental. He wasn't too surprised to see Taggert, Rafe and Brown following the two SWAT trucks. Simon went to direct the sudden influx of traffic. 
> 
> While the captain was busy, Blair looked up at his partner. He took in the granite jaw and icy-blue eyes. Nothing he hadn't seen before when they were after a bad guy, but somehow Jim seemed different. Colder, more remote. "Jim?" The detective turned his gaze down to Blair, and for a moment his expression softened. "We'll get her out of there safe, Jim." 
> 
> Ellison smiled slightly, raising a hand to rest lightly on Blair's shoulder. "Yeah, Chief. We're going to get her out of there safe. And the others, too." The smile faded as he lowered his hand, returning his gaze to the chopper. Blair had no desire to get used to the impassive visage that was once again on display. 
> 
> "So, what's BDU stand for?" Blair asked, trying to distract his partner from the grim path his thoughts seemed to be taking. 
> 
> Jim glanced at him again. "Battle Dress Uniform." 
> 
> "Oh. Makes sense." There was a moment of silence as Blair watched his partner watch the helicopter. "You're really going to do it, aren't you?" 
> 
> Jim didn't answer. 
> 
> "You already know he's going to demand you for the little girl, and you're going to do it. Jim, that's suicide!" 
> 
> The larger man finally turned his attention back to his partner, his eyes showing a glimmer of the anguish he was feeling. "What else do you want me to do, Blair? If there's no other way to get her out of there, I'm going to take it. I couldn't live at her expense. She's just a little girl." 
> 
> Blair swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. "I know, Jim." 
> 
> Jim lifted a hand to Blair's shoulder again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ellison turned his attention toward an approaching car bearing the markings of a Cascade police unit, just as a voice through a bullhorn declared, "This is the Cascade Police Department--" After an initial flinch at the unexpected noise, the Sentinel ignored what was being said, watching the new arrival instead. The unit had a passenger. 
> 
> "Mother, you suppose?" Blair asked, watching as an older woman was helped from the vehicle. 
> 
> "Elizabeth!" The woman screamed. 
> 
> Blair felt his partner stiffen, and looked at him questioningly. 
> 
> "Grandmother," Jim said distractedly, making a beeline for the distraught woman. 
> 
> "Wha--?" Confused, Blair hurried after his partner. 
> 
> "Joyce?" 
> 
> The lady in question tore her eyes from the hostage girl and looked at Jim. Relief flooded her features. 
> 
> "Captain Ellison! Oh, thank God!" the woman exclaimed, hugging herself as tears trickled from her eyes. 
> 
> Jim gulped, continuing to gaze at her. "That's Elizabeth?" 
> 
> Joyce nodded miserably. "S--someone took her from school yesterday. I thought--I thought...." 
> 
> "Shh, shh," Jim murmured, gathering the distraught woman to him in a firm embrace. "It'll be all right, Joyce. We'll get her out of this unharmed. Shh." 
> 
> "I'm sorry, Captain. It's just--Bob's gone, Lisa's gone, David's gone. My granddaughter is all I have left." Sobs pulled at the woman's composure, and Jim held her tighter. 
> 
> "It'll be all right," Jim whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. 
> 
> Blair met his partner's suspiciously bright gaze over Joyce's head, silently questioning. When she had calmed, Jim gently released her, turning toward one of the uniforms. He gave the man quiet instructions, then with one last encouraging pat for the woman, he moved to Blair's side. 
> 
> "Jim, what's going on? Who is that?" Simon inquired, before the shorter man could open his mouth. 
> 
> Jim's gaze never wavered from Blair's. "Her name is Joyce Crouse. She was the wife of my XO in Peru. That's her granddaughter up there." 
> 
> Complete silence followed that statement. 
> 
> "What's the rest of it, Jim?" Blair asked softly. 
> 
> Jim swallowed. "Their daughter and her husband were killed in a car accident just a few months before Bob and I went to Peru. They had a four-month-old baby. Bob was going to retire after Peru and help his wife raise their granddaughter. Their son David was killed in Desert Storm." He paused, then added even more quietly. "In four years' time, Joyce suffered three painful losses. I'm not about to let her suffer another." 
> 
> Blair nodded, answering his partner's silent plea for support, for understanding. He did understand, and he would support Jim's decision, but he didn't have to like it. 
> 
> Simon swore, garnering the two men's attention. He glared at Ellison, and it was obvious he knew what his detective was thinking. "Dammit, Jim...." The protest died in his throat. Instead he jerked his head toward the SWAT command center. "Turnbow wants to talk to you." 
> 
> Jim nodded, and headed for the SWAT truck. Before Blair could follow, Simon put a staying hand on his arm. He looked up into the captain's worried face. "He's going through with it, isn't he? He's planning to give himself to Turnbow, to free the girl." 
> 
> Blair nodded. "Yes, Captain. It's the only thing he can do." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and hurried to catch up with his partner. 
> 
> "Dammit, Sandburg. There's no way of telling if Turnbow will let the girl go once Jim's in his clutches," Simon said in his ear, matching his stride. 
> 
> "Don't you think I know that?" Blair snapped. Quickly calming himself, he continued more quietly, "Jim is pretty sure he'll let Elizabeth go. He has to do this." 
> 
> Simon sighed heavily, but said no more. They reached Jim's side just as the detective picked up the handset. 
> 
> "Ellison." 
> 
> "Hello, Captain. I see the uniform still fits after ten-plus years." 
> 
> "Cut to the chase, Turnbow." 
> 
> "Patience, Captain." The disembodied voice paused. "I suppose you're wondering why I didn't warn you to leave your cop friends behind." 
> 
> "The thought had crossed my mind." 
> 
> "Two reasons. One, I knew you wouldn't, or at least you'd tell your police captain regardless of what I said. Two, I want your friends to hear what I have to say, before I take you in exchange for the girl." 
> 
> Jim's jaw twitched. "We're listening." 
> 
> "Listen up folks!" Turnbow said. "Your decorated police officer is a traitor! A traitor to his country, a traitor to his oath, a traitor to his team. That man you see before you, proudly wearing the symbol of the Green Berets, is a traitor! More than ten years ago, he led a team on an anti-insurgency mission into Peru. His team died! You know how? He killed them, that's how. You want to know why? Because he was working for a corrupt Colonel who was running _drugs_ out of South America! The mission was bogus, a ploy to kill off any suspicious parties. I know what the official report says. The helicopter crashed, killing seven men. Ask yourselves, why did Ellison survive? Because he knew it was going to crash. He knew, and was prepared, that's why!" 
> 
> "No," Jim breathed. 
> 
> Blair was instantly beside him, his hand on his partner's elbow. "Jim, you know it's not true. Everybody here knows it's not true. Remember your dreams, man. You remember what happened. Hold on to that. You know the truth, not Turnbow." 
> 
> Jim nodded slightly, but he looked shaken. 
> 
> "Jim, stay with me, man. It's not true. You know it's not true. The chopper was shot down. You had no way of knowing. Remember, Oliver tried having you killed two years ago, because you figured out what he was doing in South America." Blair argued until he felt Jim straighten, and knew his friend was starting to believe him. The knot of tension in Blair's stomach eased. 
> 
> "Here's the deal, Ellison. You and that long-haired friend of yours can come get the girl. You will get aboard and release the girl, lowering her to your partner, who will take her back to her anxious grandma. After that, we'll take a little ride. Just like old times, huh, Captain?" Turnbow laughed. "Oh, and in case anyone has any bright ideas of staging a rescue of the girl, nix them. The ground is booby-trapped. There's only one way in or out and we have that covered. And Ellison, if you slip, or your friend drops the girl, they'll both meet their maker in very messy pieces. Understood?" 
> 
> "What guarantee do we have that you won't just shoot them once you have me?" 
> 
> "There is no guarantee, other than my word. You do everything like you're supposed to, and they'll be unharmed. I want you Ellison, I don't care about anybody else. Oh, for added incentive and insurance that your SWAT friends don't try to shoot us down, you'll be interested to know that I have three other hostages in here. I believe you'll recognize the name of one of them. Widden." 
> 
> Simon cursed. 
> 
> "Well, I guess we know for sure that Widden's still alive," Blair said softly. 
> 
> "When can we get the girl?" 
> 
> "Jim!" Simon exclaimed. 
> 
> "I'll give you ten minutes to prepare. Oh, and Captain, prepare for recon." 
> 
> "Acknowledged." Jim set the mike down, his shoulders slumping. 
> 
> "Ellison," Simon growled. 
> 
> Jim turned to face his superior. "What do you want me to do, sir? I'm not willing to risk that little girl's life or the other hostages. Turnbow has already proven he has no qualms about murdering." 
> 
> "And you're just going to deliver yourself into his hands?" 
> 
> "What choice do we have? Say the SWAT team was able to take out Turnbow; his partner would kill the girl before Turnbow hit the ground. If, by chance, both men were taken out, there's still the matter of the electrified field to deal with, plus any other little surprises he could have set up." 
> 
> "All right, we'll do it your way." With a resigned sigh, Simon motioned them to leave. 
> 
> "Come on, Chief. We've got less than eight minutes left," Jim said, heading for his truck. 
> 
> "What'd he mean by recon?" Blair asked, hurrying to keep up with his partner. 
> 
> "That was his way of telling me we were going on a mission." 
> 
> Blair was confused by this remark, but he didn't press for a clearer answer. Instead, he watched as Jim opened the passenger side door of the truck and pulled out a small metal case. When it was opened, it revealed what Blair recognized as camouflage sticks, otherwise known as grease paint. Jim selected one of the colored sticks, picked up the pocket mirror that was also in the case and immediately began striping his face. Blair watched in fascination as the transformation was made. Jim quickly finished, put away the items, and shut the case. This done, he exchanged the beret for the more appropriate camouflage hat. 
> 
> "Wow," Blair said simply, when Jim turned to face him. 
> 
> A small wry smile answered him. "Come on. Time to get this show on the road." 
> 
> Blair nodded, beginning to turn away. Jim stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm, and he gazed up into the familiar blue eyes. 
> 
> "I haven't forgotten what today is, Chief. This isn't how I'd intended to commemorate it." 
> 
> Blair swallowed. If Jim hadn't forgotten, _he_ had, at least temporarily. The reminder of the anniversary of his death stunned him for a moment. "I--uh--know. I hadn't quite envisioned something like this either." Stepping closer to his friend, Blair gripped the other man's shoulders. "I came back for you, Jim Ellison; you'd sure as hell better come back for me. Your Shaman demands it. The Guide needs his Sentinel as much as the Sentinel needs his Guide." The younger man moved back, continuing to hold Jim's gaze. 
> 
> Jim stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he gave a slow nod. "I'll do my best, Chief. If it's within my power at all, I _will_ return." 
> 
> "That's all I'm asking. Now, come on, before Turnbow starts to get antsy." Knowing how uncomfortable Jim could get with these emotional moments, Blair forced a smile and turned to head back toward the SWAT crew. 
> 
> Not another word was said on the subject as both men set their minds to the task ahead. They returned to the command center, where Jim picked up the handset again. 
> 
> "We're ready." 
> 
> "Very good, Captain, and within your time limit, too." Turnbow sounded pleased. "Here's your instructions. There is a three-foot-wide path leading directly to the girl. The path itself is clear, but on either side of it are land mines. You are to walk single file, three feet apart, until you reach the orange marker. There you will stop for ten seconds, then come ahead until you reach the helicopter. If you attempt to stray from the path or walk closer together than three feet, the girl and your friend will be shot. Are we clear?" 
> 
> "Understood and acknowledged," Jim said calmly, though his eyes glittered with anger. 
> 
> "Come ahead." 
> 
> Jim set the handset down. Glancing at Blair, he turned and walked out into the open. Blair came up beside him as he stopped to survey the area one final time. The Guide saw his Sentinel tilt his head just slightly. "What is it, Jim?" 
> 
> "They've begun pre-ignition on the engines." 
> 
> "Oh, man." 
> 
> Jim nodded slightly and began walking. Taking a deep, calming breath, Blair fell into step behind him. He felt uncomfortably exposed, knowing there were undoubtedly guns trained on them. They were probably thirty feet from the chopper when Jim stopped beside the orange marker. They waited silently for several seconds, then Jim spoke quietly, "He's turned off the electrical field." 
> 
> They waited the full ten seconds before beginning to move forward again. When they were a few feet beyond the invisible barrier, Jim said, "It's back on." 
> 
> "Shit," Blair whispered. "You think he's planning a doublecross?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head once. "Probably just a precaution. Remember that, when you're walking back out." 
> 
> Blair nodded, though Jim couldn't see him. As they got closer, he could see the tears on the girl's cheeks, and his jaw clenched in imitation of his partner. Blair understood her fear. He'd been in her position. But she was just a little girl. She shouldn't have to deal with this kind of trauma--no one should. Blair found himself almost seeing red, because he was so angry this was happening, and if he was angry, what must Jim be feeling? 
> 
> "Easy, Chief. You can't afford to lose your cool now." 
> 
> "I know, Jim. It just makes me so mad." 
> 
> Jim nodded once. 
> 
> Just before they reached the helicopter, Blair whispered, "Jim, if they're planning on starting this thing, don't forget to dial your hearing down. It's probably going to be loud." 
> 
> Again Jim nodded, coming to a stop in front of the crew door. Blair looked up to find two M-16s leveled at them. 
> 
> "Get aboard, Captain." 
> 
> With practiced ease, Jim climbed into the chopper, raising his hands in surrender once inside. "Sergeant Turnbow, I presume?" He addressed the stockier, fairer of the two armed men. 
> 
> Turnbow sketched a mocking salute. "Sir, yes, sir." He grinned a shark's grin, then motioned to the man beside him. Silently, the man searched Ellison, finding only the knife fastened to his boot. Turnbow accepted the weapon, examined it a moment, then handed it back to Jim. 
> 
> "You'll need this, I think," the sergeant said. "Now, I'm giving you exactly five minutes to get the girl down and your friend there another five to get her clear of here. During that time, my gun will be aimed at your friend, and Mike's here will be on you. Understood?" 
> 
> Jim nodded. 
> 
> "Clock's ticking. Oh, and remember the land mines." Turnbow moved back. 
> 
> Jim turned to survey the girl's situation. She was obviously frightened, but she was no longer crying, though tears still wet her cheeks. 
> 
> "Chief, move over here, closer to the door. The mine is directly beneath her feet." 
> 
> "I see it." 
> 
> "Good. Put a foot on either side and plant 'em. Don't move until you have her over your shoulder then step straight back, turn and carry her out of here." 
> 
> "Don't worry, man. I won't move." Blair watched nervously as Jim moved swiftly to the girl, wrapping a gentle hand around one of her legs. 
> 
> "Elizabeth," Jim said quietly. "It's going to be all right. Just hold on a little bit longer and we'll have you out of here. Okay?" 
> 
> Elizabeth gave a shaky nod, tears welling in her eyes again. 
> 
> "Okay, now, I'm going to wrap my arm around your waist so I can hold on to you while I cut you down. Ready?" 
> 
> Again, she nodded, drawing in a ragged breath as Jim's strong arm wrapped around her. He reached up and quickly sliced through the webbing suspending her. Putting the knife in his teeth, Jim used both hands to lower her to the deck, and then into Blair's waiting hands. As gently as possible the anthropologist draped her over his shoulder without her feet ever touching the ground. 
> 
> Carefully, he backed away from the aircraft, and looked up at Jim. The knife was now in the possession of Turnbow. Jim gave him a slightly wistful smile. "Go on, Chief. Get her out of here. Don't forget to stop at the marker." 
> 
> Blair nodded once, fighting the sudden constriction in his throat. He spoke for Jim's ears alone. "Don't forget your promise, Ellison. You'd better come back--alive." He saw Jim swallow and nod almost infinitesimally. 
> 
> "Go on, you don't have much time." 
> 
> Blair turned and walked as quickly as his burden would allow, back the way they had come. He was only about fifteen feet from the chopper when he heard the engines fire up. He instinctively ducked and picked up his pace. Blair reached the marker and counted ten seconds, all the while listening to the helicopter warm up. He knew it was probably close to take off rpm. He walked forward, and felt a slight tingle run up his leg. _Oh, shit!_
> 
> The concussion of the land mines sent him sprawling. Fortunately he managed to avoid crushing Elizabeth. Dirt and gravel rained down on them, and Blair covered the girl and his head until the pelting stopped. Blair rolled over to see the chopper already well into the air. "Jim," he moaned sadly. He raised his arm and waved it back and forth, signaling Jim that they were unhurt, knowing his Sentinel would be watching if at all possible. 
> 
> Silently, Blair watched as the helicopter gained altitude and became a smaller and smaller speck in the morning sky. When he could no longer see it, he flopped onto his back with another anguished moan. 
> 
> Feet were quickly approaching. Lots of them. 
> 
> "Sandburg! You okay?" Simon demanded. 
> 
> Wiping a hand over his eyes, Blair pushed himself up onto an elbow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." He looked at Elizabeth. She was curled into a ball, shaking, her eyes tightly closed. Blair scooted closer. 
> 
> "Everything's okay, Elizabeth. You're safe now. Let's get you untied and out of that harness," the Guide crooned, laying a gentle hand on her arm. Slowly, she opened her eyes, meeting Blair's gaze. He gave her an encouraging smile, beginning to work on the ropes binding her hands to the harness. Other hands were already working on cutting the tape from her ankles. 
> 
> Once free, the little girl surged forward and latched her arms around Blair's neck, beginning to sob uncontrollably. He held her tightly, all the while murmuring reassurances into her ear. Eventually he managed to regain his feet, urging her up as well. Blair didn't have the heart to break her hold on his neck, so he lifted the girl and carried her toward the vehicles and her anxiously waiting grandmother. 
> 
> "Elizabeth," Blair said softly. "Your grandmother's here. She's waiting for you." 
> 
> The girl had quieted somewhat. Now she raised her head and looked into Blair's blue eyes, then around to her grandmother. Smiling, he set her on her feet, and she ran into her grandmother's arms. Blair watched their reunion with a sad smile, heedless of the tears pricking his eyes again. 
> 
> He was just turning away, when a small, quiet voice stopped him. "Wait, please?" 
> 
> Turning back, he saw Elizabeth looking at him. "Thank you. I--I'm sorry they--took your friend." 
> 
> A tear did spill then, but he ignored it, giving her a sincere smile. "You're welcome, Elizabeth. He wanted you to be safe. Don't worry about Jim. We'll get him back." 
> 
> She offered her own tremulous smile, then went back into her grandmother's arms. Blair watched for a moment, then turned his eyes to the sky, gazing in the direction the helicopter had taken. He felt Simon and the other detectives come up behind him. 
> 
> "Major Stoltz already has men working on it. The chopper headed south, then cut back north, northeast. They tracked it for a bit, but it dropped below radar. Helicopters have been scrambled. They'll find it." 
> 
> Blair looked up at the captain. "They're not planning on shooting it down, are they?" 
> 
> "With four hostages on board, no. They've got strict orders not to fire or return fire, just to keep the chopper in sight once they find it." 
> 
> "Yeah, assuming they find it. If it stays below radar, they could change course any number of times," Blair said bitterly, returning his gaze to the sky. Finally, sighing heavily, Blair turned around and faced Jim's friends--his friends. "So, what now?" 
> 
> "Now, we wait. And while we're waiting, the FBI wants your statement." 
> 
> Blair nodded. He looked up again when Simon laid a hand on his shoulder. 
> 
> "What you did for the girl--that was good work, Blair." 
> 
> One corner of Blair's mouth quirked into a smile, but he only shrugged. 
> 
> Jim followed his partner's progress across the grassy field. He winced when the turbines first turned over, but remembering Sandburg's admonishments, he quickly downed the dial. He watched as Blair ducked when the engines started. 
> 
> The helicopter was already fifty feet in the air when he saw and heard the explosions. "No!" he yelled as Blair was thrown forward. He shot an icy glare at Turnbow before fastening his gaze on his friend. "You said you'd let them go unharmed! Why didn't you turn off the electrical field?" Jim demanded. He didn't allow the relief to show on his face when Blair rolled over and waved. 
> 
> "Insurance, Captain. I needed a diversion to give us time to get out of range. Don't worry. The land mines were special numbers I built just for this mission. More noise and smoke than any real explosives, but if you happened to stand on one, well, the results would be just as messy." Turnbow grinned. 
> 
> Jim clenched his jaw on a retort. He continued to watch his friend, now far below and far away, letting his eyesight expand to its limits, until even he could no longer see the curly-haired man. Closing his eyes for a moment to center himself, he turned around. "So, what happens now?" 
> 
> "We go for a little ride. In the meantime, get over there with the others." Turnbow motioned with his weapon. 
> 
> Jim turned, looking at the three other hostages for the first time. They were all seated together on the deck, one wrist of each man chained to a jump chord anchor. Jim moved to sit down next to them. There was an empty set of chain cuffs, one end already attached to an anchor, beside him. 
> 
> "Cuff yourself, Captain. I'm sure you know how they work." 
> 
> Silently, the detective obeyed. 
> 
> "You know, I'm surprised," Turnbow commented. 
> 
> Jim looked at the sergeant impassively. "About?" 
> 
> "You haven't asked me why?" 
> 
> Ellison's lips quirked into a wry smile. "I figured your little speech earlier pretty much answered that question. You think I was part of Oliver's operation; that I knew the mission was false; that the chopper was going to be sabotaged. You blame me for your father's death." 
> 
> "You're damn right I do!" 
> 
> Jim continued to look at his captor calmly. "Well, you know what, Sergeant? I blame _myself_ for their deaths. I _suspected_ Oliver was up to something. I should have known the mission was a set up. But I _didn't_. If I had, I might've been able to prevent it somehow." 
> 
> Turnbow seemed thrown by this response, but then he sneered. "Nice try, Captain, but save it for someone who cares." 
> 
> Jim shrugged. "The only thing I don't understand is why you killed four innocent men, and kidnapped three others." 
> 
> The sergeant grinned, but there was no warmth behind it. "To get your attention." 
> 
> "You killed four men just to get my attention?" Ellison knew he shouldn't be surprised, but having it confirmed knotted his stomach. 
> 
> "It worked, though not in the way I anticipated." At Jim's silently inquiring look, Turnbow continued. "I expected you to contact your Army buddies to 'take care of the problem'. I didn't expect you to sit and wait for the next one." 
> 
> "I didn't have anything to go on. All I had was a coin belonging to someone in Seventh Group." 
> 
> "Huh. Still trying to convince me you had nothing to do with Oliver's operation?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head slightly. "No. What good would it do?" 
> 
> Turnbow snorted in disgust. "You're right, it wouldn't do any good. I must admit, you figured it out a little sooner than I anticipated. I was surprised to see the surveillance around Widden's house. How'd you figure it out?" 
> 
> "I had help. You left plenty of clues once we knew where to look. MOS, physical description, similar ages. The varied and professional means you used to kill told me it had to be someone with a military background and probably someone with assassin training. My partner figured out how you had gotten the coins belonging to my men, and the timing of their deliveries told me it had to be someone with pretty good knowledge of my last mission. Eventually the trail led to you." 
> 
> "Impressive. I guess that's why they call you a detective." 
> 
> Jim grimaced, but otherwise ignored the remark. "Can I ask you something?" 
> 
> "Shoot." 
> 
> "What are they here for?" Jim indicated his fellow prisoners. "You wanted me, you have me." 
> 
> The sergeant smiled broadly. "Oh, they're part of your punishment." Turnbow started to turn away, then stopped and looked back at him. "Did you ever wonder how I chose them?" 
> 
> "Actually, yeah." 
> 
> "I'll tell you. They all accepted missions from Oliver. Some even worked for him. And they all knew my dad." 
> 
> Jim struggled to hide his surprise, but some of the emotion must have been visible, because Turnbow grinned malevolently. Without another word the sergeant turned and went to the cockpit. 
> 
> Sighing, Jim leaned back against the wall of the helicopter. He lifted his cuffed wrist, examining it briefly, then let it drop to the deck. 
> 
> "Welcome to our nightmare, Captain." 
> 
> Jim looked at the man sitting next to him, then let his gaze slide to the others. They were grim-faced but non-hostile. He returned his eyes to the man who had spoken. He recognized him from a picture he'd seen. "Mitchell Widden, isn't it?" 
> 
> "That's me. This here's Matt Carson, and Rick Dunning. We were all with Seventh Group." 
> 
> Ellison smiled tightly. "Nice to meet you. Sorry it had to be like this. You guys okay?" 
> 
> "Yeah, we're fine. Nothin' but a few bruises," Widden said. "If it's any consolation, Captain, we don't blame you for any of this. This guy is demented." 
> 
> Jim eyed the three men a little incredulously. "Seems to me you have every right to blame me." 
> 
> "Yeah, well, from the sounds of it, Turnbow's after anyone ever connected with that weasel Oliver. You were just unlucky enough to be in charge of the operation that got his old man killed." 
> 
> Jim grimaced. "Yeah." 
> 
> Widden surprised Jim by reaching over and patting his shoulder. Jim couldn't help smiling slightly in appreciation of the gesture. "What were your specialties?" 
> 
> "I was an Intelligence Officer," Widden answered. 
> 
> "Warrant Officer," Carson said. 
> 
> "Ops," Dunning added. 
> 
> Jim nodded, having expected their answers. "Still holding to the pattern," he murmured. 
> 
> A few minutes of silence ensued, each man contemplating the chances of a short future. 
> 
> "Man, this guy is nuts!" Dunning finally broke the silenece. 
> 
> "Yeah, but he seems to hold all the cards," Carson said. 
> 
> "When did Turnbow grab you?" Jim asked. "The Seattle police discovered Widden's disappearance three days ago." 
> 
> "Carson and me were picked up four days ago, I think. Widden came later. Turnbow snatched the girl yesterday afternoon." 
> 
> "How long had you been here, before I showed up?" 
> 
> "He and his buddy gassed us or something early this morning. It was still dark when we came to, chained in here. Yesterday he gave us the uniforms and ordered us to put them on." 
> 
> Jim took in what the men were wearing, consciously realizing for the first time that they were dressed in BDUs. "Do you know how long you flew before landing at that airstrip?" 
> 
> The three men shook their heads. "We were already airborne when I woke up. That was around O-five-hundred. We landed about thirty minutes later," Carson said. 
> 
> "By the time we came around, the girl was already suspended. Shortly after that he called you, and here you are," Widden added. 
> 
> Jim nodded, expelling a deep breath. "So, there's no way of knowing how long the chopper might've been in the air. Any luck with the cuffs?" 
> 
> "No, not a weak link in the lot. The bastard was even smart enough to get slipless locks. There's no getting out of these babies without a pick," Widden answered. 
> 
> Again, Jim nodded, accepting this assessment. "Did Turnbow tell you how he slipped surveillance?" 
> 
> "It was disgustingly simple, and I'm ashamed to say I used to work Special Ops," Mitchell said. "There was a new moon four nights ago. My house backs another yard. What light gets back there comes from a street light, which was burned out. He just snuck through the back yard and in the back door into the garage. I was asleep in my bed. The next thing I knew, I was waking up bound and gagged in the back of a van." 
> 
> "Don't feel too bad. Turnbow's had some Special Ops training, too," Jim said. While Widden had described his capture, Jim had been surreptitiously working at a seam on his right boot. He paused often to scan the cockpit for any indication of Turnbow's imminent return. 
> 
> Having noticed Jim's activities, Widden watched in silence, periodically glancing at the cockpit himself. 
> 
> Seeing his interest, Jim said, "I have a pick sewn in under a false seam. I'd forgotten it was there until I put these on this morning. It'll take me a while to work it loose, though." 
> 
> "Gotcha. We'll keep an eye out." 
> 
> "Captain, look over there," Carson called, pointing to the tail section of the helicopter. 
> 
> Jim looked and saw ten parachute packs stowed behind cargo netting. "Huh. I didn't notice those before. Wherever Turnbow heisted this chopper from, it was obviously mission ready." 
> 
> "It looks like there are rappelling ropes, too," Carson added. 
> 
> "Good. Look around for anything else we might be able to use." Jim kept working at the stitching, feeling it give little by little. The leather was stiff from years of disuse, making the task more difficult than it normally would've been. 
> 
> Ellison estimated they'd been airborne for about thirty minutes when they felt the chopper start to climb and pick up speed. 
> 
> "I wonder what he's doin' now?" Dunning asked. 
> 
> Jim shrugged, continuing to work on the stitching. The others made no reply. 
> 
> Fifteen minutes later Jim had the pick free and quickly began to work on his shackle. A moment later it unlocked with a soft click. Jim left the cuff in place around his wrist, and handed the instrument to Widden. "Unlock them, but don't remove them yet." The others nodded their understanding. 
> 
> Carson had just passed the pick to Dunning, when Jim hissed a warning. The former Operations officer palmed the pick as Turnbow rejoined their little group. 
> 
> "How's it going, men? Comfortable?" Turnbow looked over the captives, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "We're almost to our destination." 
> 
> "And that would be?" Jim asked. 
> 
> The sergeant chuckled. "Oh, somewhere around Mount Baker National Forest." He laughed again, then moved to a compartment just behind the cockpit. He pulled out a military issue backpack. Turnbow knelt and began checking the contents. 
> 
> The captives were silent as they watched Turnbow. 
> 
> Turnbow looked over his shoulder at them, another grin spreading across his face, then he stood, strapping on the backpack. He looked to his pilot, who nodded. Turning back to the captives, Turnbow said, "Well, we've reached five thousand feet. That should put us squarely back on their radar." He dug into his shirt pocket, and held up a tiny key. "So you can't say I didn't give you a fighting chance." Almost negligently he tossed it to Ellison. 
> 
> Jim snatched the key out of mid-air, staring at Turnbow. "What makes you think we can't land this bird?" 
> 
> Turnbow grinned malevolently. "This does." He removed the pistol from the holster at his hip, raised it menacingly in Ellison's direction, then calmly swung around and shot the pilot. The man jerked once, then slumped against the side of the chopper. 
> 
> "Holy shit!" 
> 
> "Turnbow!" Jim bellowed, lunging for the killer. 
> 
> The sergeant looked momentarily stunned by Jim's freedom, but recovered quickly. He had his pistol raised and leveled at Ellison before the detective could take advantage of the situation. Jim stopped short, seething at his missed opportunity. 
> 
> "Well, it seems you haven't lost your skills, Ellison. Unfortunately, it's not going to do you any good. You have approximately ninety seconds to try and rescue yourselves before this bird cracks up. Use them wisely." Turnbow gave them a mocking salute, and stepped backwards out the door. "See you in another life!" 
> 
> Jim surged forward, but knew it was too late. He watched for precious seconds until Turnbow's hidden chute deployed. Fixing the drift direction in his mind, Jim rushed to the cockpit. Widden and the others were already breaking out the other parachutes. Jim checked for the pilot's pulse as he climbed over the console into the other seat. "He's still alive! Get your parachutes on, then one of you pull him out of here! I'll hold it as long as I can! Turnbow was drifting due south!" 
> 
> "We're not leaving you here!" Widden hollered. 
> 
> "Never mind that! Just do it!" Jim ordered, turning his full attention to keeping the helicopter in the air as long as possible. _Not again, not again, not again._ Time was running out. The unconscious man was heavy on the controls, and Jim had to struggle against the dead weight. All he could do was keep the ship on a straight course. Unfortunately, that course was heading them right for the side of a mountain. Specters of his past threatened to overwhelm the present, but he shoved them away, concentrating desperately on the here and now. Just when he felt the inner demons winning, he heard Blair's quiet, soothing voice in his mind, reminding him that what happened in Peru was unavoidable, uncontrollable. That imagined voice steadied him, squelching the demons of the past, lending him some much needed strength. Jim understood and believed then that, no matter the outcome, Blair would be there for him. 

* * *


	8. Silver Cloud, Dark Lining -- End

* * *

> Blair wanted to explode. 
> 
> After giving his statement to the Feds and to Major Stoltz, and then a second time to the Feds, Simon had let him drive Jim's truck back to the station. Now, he was pacing in the big man's office. 
> 
> He knew his nervous energy was about to drive Simon up the wall, but the captain refused to let him leave. He supposed, with some amusement, that Simon was attempting to keep him out of trouble. He almost felt like laughing. Almost. Problem was, if he laughed, it would quickly turn to hysteria, and Blair so did not want to go there. Not in the bullpen. So, he waited, along with Simon. 
> 
> "Sandburg," Simon said. "You're beginning to remind me of your partner, stalking back and forth like that." 
> 
> Blair stopped abruptly, and looked at the captain. "Sorry, Simon." With exaggerated care he took a seat at the conference table. Though seated, it was only moments before his legs started bouncing with nervous tension. He leaned forward on his elbows, then sat back, dragging his hands through his hair. "God, when are we going to hear something?" 
> 
> Simon sighed, but was silent for a moment. "Ah, hell, Sandburg. Go do something constructive on the computer." 
> 
> Blair didn't hear him. He was as still as he had been frenetic a moment before. _Jim?_ Blair's focus turned inward. He could sense his partner through their connection. It was faint, but definitely there. He concentrated. _I'm here, Jim. I will always be here. What happened in Peru was not your fault. Believe that. It was beyond your control. It's in the past._ Blair felt the inner tension ease, as if Jim had heard him and finally did believe. 
> 
> "Sandburg? Blair?" 
> 
> The observer blinked, and focused on Simon. "Uh, sorry, Simon." 
> 
> "You all right?" 
> 
> "Yeah, fine. Just, uh, doing some meditation. You know, to try to calm down." Blair offered a smile. 
> 
> Simon continued to stare at him, concern written in every feature. Finally, he nodded. "Whatever it was, it seems to have worked." 
> 
> Blair's smile widened a little. He stood up. "I'm going to go do some research on the computer." An unspoken request to be informed of any news passed between them, and the captain nodded. 
> 
> Nearly an hour later, Blair looked up when Simon opened his door. The captain gestured to him. Tucking his glasses in his shirt pocket, he quickly joined the bigger man in his office. The eyes of the other detectives followed him. They were all anxious to hear word of their friend. 
> 
> Simon was leaning on his desk, his face grim. Blair took a seat and waited silently, chewing on his lower lip. Finally, the captain raised his head and met his gaze, the dark eyes suspiciously bright. "I got the call. An hour ago, a military helicopter crashed into the side of a mountain near Harts Pass in Mount Baker National Forest. They don't think there were any survivors." 
> 
> Blair's heart felt like it was in a vise. His stomach lurched, but he forced himself to relax. "And they're sure it was the one Turnbow took?" 
> 
> Simon nodded. 
> 
> "What's the rest of it, Simon?" 
> 
> The captain sighed heavily. "Thirty minutes before it went down, the chopper appeared on radar, steadily gaining speed and altitude. One of the choppers scrambled to search caught up to it just outside North Cascade National Park. They saw one jumper. They didn't see any others." 
> 
> Blair sat in stunned silence for a long moment. "You mean.What about his partner? Did he just kill him, too? God, how cold can this guy be?" Blair closed his eyes. A large hand squeezed his shoulder, startling him. He met Simon's sympathetic expression. 
> 
> "Blair, I'm sorry. Why don't you go on home? If you want, I'll call you when I hear the results of the search." 
> 
> "What? No, Simon, we have to go there. Jim might need our help." 
> 
> "Sandburg. Blair--" 
> 
> "Simon, listen to me. Jim is alive. I would know if he wasn't." 
> 
> "Blair, from the sound of it, the chopper is in a million pieces." 
> 
> "I don't _care_ about the chopper. Jim is _alive_. I don't know where or how, but he _is_ alive. Now, how far is it to Harts Pass?" 
> 
> "Sandburg," Simon growled in warning. 
> 
> Blair clenched his jaw. He could be as stubborn as his partner when he needed to be. "Simon, do you believe Jim is a Sentinel?" A nod. "Do you understand that I am his Guide? The person who watches the Sentinel's back, protects the Sentinel from harm, as he protects others?" Another, more reluctant nod. "I know Jim told you about the vision he had in order to bring me back after the fountain. Do you believe it?" An uncomfortable nod. "Once a Guide chooses a Sentinel, and that Sentinel accepts the Guide, they are bound. They will always know where the other is, what the other needs. Jim is _my_ Sentinel, I am his Guide, we are bound. The connection was always there, fragile as a thread, but after the fountain, after the temple, it became as thick and strong as a rope. We. Are. _Bound_. I would know in an instant if Jim was dead, and I am telling you that the connection is very much intact. Jim is _alive_." 
> 
> Blair spoke with such conviction and determination that Simon had little choice but to believe him. The big man stared down at the anthropologist for several minutes. Blair waited for the acquiescence he was sure would come. When it did, he said, "Good. Now, how far is it?" 
> 
> Simon straightened. "It's a little over a hundred and forty miles by road." He paused. "Go home and pack. I'll pick you up in an hour. Remember, we'll be in the mountains, it'll still be cold and maybe snowy. And don't forget to pack some stuff for your partner." 
> 
> Blair's face lit with a huge grin. "Thanks, Simon." He jumped to his feet and was out the door before the captain could even think about changing his mind. 
> 
> Jim watched as the ground loomed larger and larger. He was somewhat amazed to be in a position to watch the ground come up at him. With barely twenty seconds before the helicopter impacted the mountain, Widden and Dunning had pulled the pilot out of the cockpit, and jumped. Thinking everyone well away, Jim had said a silent apology to Blair for being unable to come back, and prepared to die. However, Carson had had other ideas. The older man had stayed behind to pull him out, and though dismayed the man had taken such a risk, he couldn't deny he'd leapt at the chance Carson had given him. 
> 
> Jim braced himself for impact, knowing they were going to hit hard. He wasn't wrong. Parachute landings were always risky, no matter how many a person had done. Landing with a person in your arms could be suicidal. It had been more years than he'd been out of the service since Jim had done a tandem jump. 
> 
> As if they'd done this before, he and Carson executed a proper two-footed landing. Despite this, the force of impact sent sharp pains radiating through his heels, ankles and shins. No bones were shattered, and as the adage went, any jump that could be walked away from was a good one. Gripping Carson's arm in thanks, Jim disengaged himself from the older man's hold and rushed to assist Widden with the pilot. Jim and Dunning took charge of the unconscious man, laying him on the ground while Widden and Carson gathered up the parachutes. 
> 
> The pilot had lost a fair amount of blood, but it seemed to have slowed a little. The bullet had entered behind the man's left shoulder and exited out the left side of his chest. Jim could hear air leaking from the bullet's exit wound with each of the pilot's labored breaths, and he knew the lung had been punctured. Further investigation revealed a shattered shoulder blade, and at least one broken rib from the bullet. They were going to have to take care of the pneumothorax quickly if they wanted to keep the man alive. 
> 
> Dunning placed the helicopter's first aid kit between them and they set to work. It took a while, but eventually they got the pilot's condition stabilized, or at least as stable as they could make it. He was going to have to be watched closely for any changes, but they had done all they could for the time being. With a tired sigh, Jim sat back on his heels, looking around for the first time. 
> 
> Trees surrounded the small clearing they'd landed in. By concentrating just a little, Jim could hear the sound of water. He couldn't be sure if it was a stream or a river, but it would mean fresh water to drink. He glanced up at the sky, checking the position of the sun. It was still before noon. 
> 
> "Captain, we can carry the pilot on this," Widden said. Jim looked over as the two men joined him and Dunning. They had a makeshift stretcher made with the rappelling ropes from the chopper and two long branches. 
> 
> "Excellent job, Widden, Carson. I wasn't relishing the thought of us carrying him down the mountain on our backs." 
> 
> "What do you want us to do now, sir?" Carson asked. 
> 
> Jim glanced back up at the sky. "We have hours of daylight left, and I think I hear a stream not too far from here. Let's head for it, then push south. Maybe we'll find a road or a hiker's trail. We need to get the pilot to a doctor as soon as possible, and preferably before the temperature starts to drop. None of us is exactly prepared for cold weather." He indicated their lack of field jackets. 
> 
> "There are space blankets in the medic's bag," Dunning reminded them. 
> 
> Jim nodded. "Yeah, we should use one of those on our injured friend when we get him on the stretcher. Now, if only one of us had a weapon." 
> 
> "I can help with that, too, Captain." Dunning produced two fighting knives and a .9mm pistol from another pack. "I found these when I was searching for the first aid kit." 
> 
> "Give me one of the knives. You three decide who's going to get what's left." Jim attached the knife to his boot. It took only moments for the others to choose. Widden took a knife, and started to cut the chutes from their harnesses. Jim joined him, and they made short work of the three parachutes. 
> 
> Moving and acting as though they'd always been a team, the four men quickly folded two of the chutes and placed them on the bottom of the stretcher. Quickly and efficiently they transferred the injured pilot to the makeshift conveyance. Instead of using the space blanket, they folded the leftover chute and placed it over him. With the parachute cording, they secured the man to the stretcher so he wouldn't fall off. 
> 
> "Okay, move out. We'll trade off every hour," Jim said. He glanced up at the sky again. Far in the distance he could hear a faint rumble of thunder. He frowned, then gave the signal to get underway. 
> 
> Dunning and Widden picked up the stretcher and fell into step behind Ellison. Carson brought up the rear, the remaining rappelling rope coiled over his shoulder. They knew they were in friendly territory, but years of military training kept them all on the lookout for trouble. 
> 
> Thirty minutes later, they reached the stream. The three former NCOs exchanged bemused glances, but made no comment. They spent several minutes drinking and refreshing themselves. Widden cut a scrap of cloth from his t-shirt, soaked it, then applied it to the injured man's forehead. He repeated this process until the others had finished at the stream. Soon they were underway again, Jim and Carson bearing the stretcher. 
> 
> They stopped every hour to catch a drink and exchange places. After the third such stop, Jim bent to take up the stretcher, but was gently moved aside by Carson. He gave the man a questioning look. 
> 
> "Sorry, Captain. We don't mean to seem insubordinate, but it's become obvious to us that you're following some kind of trail. Why don't you keep point? We can handle the stretcher." 
> 
> Jim was taken aback. "I can--" 
> 
> "No need, sir. You led us right to this river, when the rest of us weren't sure it was here, and in case you haven't noticed, you've led us around some pretty dangerous obstacles we might've missed." Carson smiled proudly. "You can always tell the really good trackers from the pretenders, and you, son, are one of the best I've seen in a long time. The really good ones are practically one with the land, seeing, hearing, even smelling signs us mere soldiers miss until almost too late." 
> 
> Jim stared at Carson, then the others. "I--uh--don't know what to say." 
> 
> Widden grinned. "There's nothing to say, Captain. We've all had the training, but you, man, you live and breathe it. You remind me of some big jungle cat, the way you move, the way you check out your surroundings." 
> 
> Jim had to chuckle at this assessment, despite his surprise. The chuckle died in his throat a moment later, as he looked up at the sky, turning toward the west. 
> 
> The other three men exchanged grins. "What is it?" Carson asked. 
> 
> Jim lowered his head and refocused on them. A hesitant smile twitched his lips. "There's a storm front moving this way." 
> 
> "Can you tell how close?" 
> 
> Jim shook his head. "No, but I don't think it'll be here for a while. Come on, let's move." 
> 
> An hour later, instead of stopping, Dunning jogged up to Carson and took over the front of the stretcher, while Carson dropped back to take the rear of the stretcher and Widden took up the rearguard. 
> 
> "It's amazing how fast it all comes back to you, you know?" Dunning commented to no one in particular. 
> 
> "What's that?" Widden asked. 
> 
> "Our training. I've been retired now for five years, but it's like I haven't been gone at all. We just fell into sync with each other without so much as a thought. I know that was an essential part of our training, being part of a team, but it's still fascinating that we assumed our roles so easily." 
> 
> "Yeah, I guess you have a point," Widden agreed. "Until today I'd never met Ellison, but it just seemed natural to follow his command, and I don't think much of that has to do with him having been a captain." 
> 
> "I know what you mean. I'm old enough to be the man's father, but I never thought twice about putting him in charge," Carson added from the front. The others made murmurs of agreement. They fell silent again as they concentrated on their trek. 
> 
> Jim heard their discussion, and couldn't help smiling a little. Their words brought him a mixture of embarrassment, relief, and gratitude. He reiterated a silent vow he'd made to himself. He was going to do what he could to ensure that these men returned alive and in one piece. Jim was honest enough with himself to admit that Carson had been right, to a certain extent. He was following something, but it wasn't a trail. He was allowing his instincts to lead him, mainly because they were leading him in the direction he knew they needed to go anyway. 
> 
> Another hour slipped away. The four men stopped to drink and rest a few minutes. Jim checked the pilot. The fever the injured man had developed a few hours ago was up another notch. Jim nodded at Widden, who placed the wet scrap of cloth on the man's forehead. While Widden tended to the pilot, Carson and Dunning foraged in the woods for edible berries. 
> 
> Fifteen minutes later they were once again on the march. By silent accord, the four men picked up their pace. The shadows were growing longer, and they knew they didn't have many hours until nightfall. Dusk was fast approaching when Jim abruptly stopped, signaling the others to a halt. He looked toward the western sky again. The storm was closer, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. He swiveled his head, sniffing the air. _There!_ Jim now knew where his instincts were leading him. To his Guide. 
> 
> Jim signaled his men to move out, picking up the pace once more. He began angling slightly away from the river. Dusk was just enshrouding the forest when Jim froze. He cocked his head slightly. A moment later, a cold fury was burning inside him. Jim looked at the men, pressing a finger to his lips. When they nodded in understanding, he began to walk again, moving even more quietly than before. Widden and the others silently followed his example. 
> 
> After ten minutes, Jim stopped again, but this time he joined his small team. He checked the pilot. Satisfied the man was still stable enough, Jim whispered, "Leave him here for a bit. Carson, Dunning, stay with him. Widden, with me. We have a little mission to perform." 
> 
> The others looked at him strangely, but didn't ask any questions. Dunning and Widden moved the pilot's stretcher to the shelter of an evergreen and gently put it down. Dunning sat down beside the injured man while Carson stood watch. Jim nodded to them, then motioned to Widden, and they headed off into the encroaching darkness. 
> 
> "Sandburg, tell me again why I let you talk me into this?" 
> 
> Blair grinned at Simon. They had stopped in this small clearing to rest and decide whether they were going to push on or camp here for the night. "Because you want to believe me when I tell you Jim is alive, and you couldn't let me go off on my own." 
> 
> Simon snorted. "You're damn right I couldn't let you go off on your own. With your sense of direction?" 
> 
> "Yeah, yeah, but I _know_ we're on the right course." 
> 
> Banks sighed. "I believe you, Blair. It's not like we have a whole lot of options, anyway." Simon paused. "But I'm only giving you three days. If we don't find Jim by then, we're heading home." 
> 
> "I know, Simon, you've already said that. But we won't need three days," Blair answered with quiet conviction. "I'm gonna go take a leak." Blair moved off into the trees. 
> 
> When he finished, the Guide gazed off to the north. _Jim, I know you're out there. Just trust your instincts._
> 
> Cold steel touched his neck. Blair froze. A hand gripped him around the shoulders from behind and a chillingly familiar voice spoke in his ear. "What do we have here? Ellison's faithful little friend." 
> 
> "Turnbow." 
> 
> The sergeant chuckled. "Surprised?" 
> 
> "I guess I shouldn't be." 
> 
> "No, you shouldn't. Come on. We need to get back to your captain friend." 
> 
> Keeping the knife at Blair's throat and his hold firm, Turnbow forced Blair to walk back to the clearing. The observer was shocked to see Simon unconscious on the ground. Forgetting the knife, Blair gasped, then hissed in pain as the blade bit into his skin. "What'd you do to him?" 
> 
> "Nothing permanent. Yet." Shifting his grip to a chokehold, Turnbow forced Blair down next to Simon. Blair struggled for breath while the man unlocked one of the cuffs around Simon's wrists, then snapped it around Blair's. With a firm shove, the sergeant released him. Blair toppled over, gasping as the awkward angle wrenched his shoulder. Righting himself with a grunt, the observer looked over Simon's unconscious form. Other than a nasty lump on his temple, Blair couldn't see any other injuries. 
> 
> Simon groaned. Blair shot Turnbow a glance, but he ignored them. The sergeant was busying himself a few feet away building a camp fire. "Simon, wake up." 
> 
> The big man groaned again, and attempted to sit up. Blair gave the captain leeway to pull himself up, but caught his breath in pain as Simon inadvertently pulled on his shoulder. Simon came fully awake then. He stared at Blair. The grad student smiled grimly as he watched the captain come to the same conclusions he had. Simon's gaze swiveled to the man at the fire. 
> 
> "Welcome back, Captain Banks." 
> 
> "Let me guess. You're Jake Turnbow." 
> 
> "Very good, Captain. Now, you're probably wondering what I'm going to do with you." Turnbow paused to give them a malevolent grin. "I haven't quite figured that out yet. I could have killed you outright. In fact, I still could, or I could just leave you like that and let you make your way back down the mountain. Live or die would be up to you." 
> 
> "If you were going to let us go, why ambush us in the first place?" Blair asked. 
> 
> Turnbow smiled smugly. "Because I could." 
> 
> Blair and Simon had nothing to say to that. 
> 
> "It'll be dark soon. We're going to camp here for the night." Turnbow went to his pack. 
> 
> While he was busy, Simon attempted to get up. Turnbow whirled, pistol aimed. "Don't move, Captain." 
> 
> Simon settled back. "I was just going to get my arm in front of me." 
> 
> "No. I like you just the way you are. Now, stay put." 
> 
> Reluctantly, the big man obeyed. He cast an annoyed glance at Blair. "Only you, Sandburg. All this forest, and only you could run into the one fugitive in these parts." 
> 
> "Me! Don't be blaming this one on me, Simon. Neither one of us was thinking about Turnbow, and you know it. Besides, who was it who got captured by rebels in Peru? Who was it who got kidnapped by Quinn? Who was it who got shot at his own high school reunion?" 
> 
> "All right, all right. So we've both had our share of trouble," Simon conceded. 
> 
> Turnbow was standing now, looking at them with a mixture of amusement and disgust. "Do you two always gripe like this?" 
> 
> "Only on bad days," Blair replied. 
> 
> "Which is usually," Simon deadpanned. 
> 
> "Well, I don't wanna hear any more of it." Turnbow walked away, making a slow circuit of the clearing. He stopped on the other side of the campfire. Dusk had fallen and was rapidly descending into night. Apparently satisfied with his surroundings, Turnbow turned and knelt beside the fire. 
> 
> Blair and Simon watched him silently. It had been hours since either man had eaten, and Blair wondered if Turnbow was going to feed them or make them go hungry. The observer felt Simon squeeze the hand that was cuffed to his, and Blair looked at the captain. Simon's expression was full of determination and silent reassurance. Blair smiled slightly, then returned his gaze to their captor. 
> 
> As Blair watched, a dark shadow detached itself from its neighbors. His eyes went wide as the shadow resolved itself into a man. Swift as lightning, an arm snaked out and Turnbow found a knife at his throat. The irony wasn't lost on Blair, as he silently cheered his partner's arrival. Stealing a glance at Simon, he saw the older man staring, too. 
> 
> Ellison quickly disarmed Turnbow, tossing the weapons to the other side of the fire. Slowly, Jim raised the man to his feet just by the pressure of the knife against his throat. "Twitch, and you die." Jim's calm, quiet voice carried across the small clearing. He laced his free arm under and around Turnbow's elbows, effectively immobilizing him. 
> 
> "You're a cop now, Ellison. You can't kill me without breaking your policeman's oath." 
> 
> The tip of the knife pressed a little deeper into the soft skin under Turnbow's left ear. A drop of blood appeared. "Do you care to test that theory?" 
> 
> Turnbow subsided. "You're supposed to be dead." 
> 
> "Didn't happen." 
> 
> "How? I heard the explosion." 
> 
> "The chopper crashed, just like you planned, but Carson and Widden pulled the pilot and me with them when they jumped. Damned foolhardy move, but I'm grateful just the same." 
> 
> "No! You were supposed to die! Just like my father. Just like the other men you killed. You condemned seven good men to death! You need to pay for that." Turnbow kicked backwards, catching Jim in the shin. The knife at his throat bit through his skin, but he didn't seem to care. Struggling frantically, he got one hand free and elbowed Jim in the gut. Jim grunted, but didn't release him. To prevent Turnbow from accidentally killing himself, Jim shifted the knife so only the flat of the blade pressed against the man's throat. 
> 
> "Listen, because I'm only going to say this once. I don't know what you think you know about Peru, but I lost seven good friends when that chopper was shot down. I should have died in that crash, too, but for whatever reason, I didn't. I buried a piece of myself when I buried them." 
> 
> "Save your sob story. After you made sure they were all dead, you went on with your mission. You didn't even bother to try to contact HQ." 
> 
> "And you call yourself a Special Ops soldier," Jim said disappointedly. "What's part of the creed we live by?" Turnbow refused to answer. "'Complete the mission, though I be the lone survivor.' Well, buddy, that's what I was, and that's what I did. For eighteen long months I helped the Chopec guard their pass against the very forces Oliver had working for him. It wasn't until a few years ago that I learned for sure Oliver had been involved." 
> 
> With a growl of rage, Turnbow surged against Jim's hold and managed to tear himself free. Blood welled up on his neck, but he ignored the injury. He spun and charged. Knowing his opponent possessed the same skills he did, plus had the advantage of youth, Jim tossed his knife aside, unwilling to risk losing it. He met the sergeant's maddened assault with a raised knee to the gut. Turnbow staggered, but managed to let fly a fist that connected with Jim's solar plexus. Jim went down, and the sergeant was immediately on top of him. The two men wrapped their hands around each other's throats as they rolled and struggled. Ellison finally clapped Turbnow's ears with cupped hands, making the younger man's hold loosen. Jim took advantage, breaking Turnbow's grip and surging to his feet. The sergeant followed, swinging with his left. Jim avoided the punch and sent one of his own into Turnbow's stomach. 
> 
> The two men broke apart, circling, eyeing each other for an opening. Turnbow charged again. Jim caught the man's shoulders, letting the force carry him to the ground. He brought both feet up to his chest and planted them in Turnbow's midsection, sending the man soaring over his head. Jim rolled to his feet and prepared to engage the sergeant again. 
> 
> Blair watched the fight with a mixture of horror and fascination. He had rarely seen Jim use his skills so fluidly. Jim often seemed stiff and unsure when he had to fight someone. Watching him now, Blair realized the reason was staring him in the face. Jim knew this opponent, knew this guy had some of the same skills and training he had. Jim knew he didn't have to check himself. The ex-covert ops agent was probably trained in a thousand different ways to kill someone with his bare hands. He could, would, never unleash that kind of knowledge on an unsuspecting perp, no matter how skilled said perp seemed to be. That realization awed Blair anew. 
> 
> Simon stiffened beside him. Blair glanced at the captain, and his eyes widened. Another man-shaped shadow had detached itself from its surroundings. Blair would have yelled a warning, but something told him this was friend, not foe. The man slunk forward, retrieved the discarded gun and two knives, then backed away, never taking his eyes off the combat. He stopped beside Simon. Only then did he glance at the two bound men, flashing a brief smile. "Hi. I'm Mitch Widden." 
> 
> "The guy who was kidnapped a few days ago?" Blair asked softly. 
> 
> "Yeah. The captain told me who you were." Widden's eyes narrowed as he studied the two fighters. He nodded a moment later. "They're almost finished." 
> 
> Indeed, Blair and Simon refocused on the combatants just as Jim delivered an uppercut to Turnbow's chin. The sergeant went down, and didn't get up again. He wasn't quite unconscious, but close. Blood poured from his nose and a cut above his eye, and his entire face was puffy from swelling bruises. Jim was a little better off. He had a split lip, a cut above one eye, and another on his cheek. 
> 
> Jim looked down at Turnbow, his chest heaving from his exertions. Wordlessly, he leaned over and patted the pockets of the sergeant's uniform. Locating and extracting the small key, he tossed it to Widden. Jim straightened, still staring down at the groggy man. "For ten years, I had repressed the memories of that mission and what happened. Thanks to you, I relived practically every painful moment of that ordeal. Thanks to a friend, I can now remember that time without guilt. He made me believe in a few truths. I couldn't change what happened. I couldn't _know_ it was going to happen. I am a survivor. There is no shame in that. I survived so I could carry on with the mission. The shame, the _betrayal_ , would have been if I had turned my back on my duty, in essence turning my back on them." 
> 
> A grin split Blair's face. He was so proud of his partner. _He believes! He really, honestly believes! Yes, finally!_ As soon as Widden had him free from the cuffs, he rushed to his Sentinel's side. 
> 
> Jim turned his head slightly and gave him a slight smile. A hand came to rest tiredly on Blair's shoulder, squeezing gently, conveying warmth and friendship. Blair gripped his friend's arm, returning the smile. 
> 
> By now Simon and Widden had joined them. Widden held out the cuffs. Jim took them, and hauled Turnbow to a sitting position by his shirt front. He let Widden hold him there while Jim moved around and locked the sergeant's wrists behind his back. Unceremoniously, Widden released his grip and let Turnbow flop back on to the ground. Jim did a cursory sweep with his senses while his hands checked the sergeant for injuries. He found nothing serious, and stood up. 
> 
> Finally, Jim turned to face Simon, exhaustion written in every line of his face. "Hi, sir." 
> 
> Simon returned the gaze, his face etched with concern. He nodded. "Good work, Ellison," he said formally. "I'm glad you're okay, Jim." 
> 
> "Thanks, Simon. So am I." He automatically draped an arm over Blair's shoulder as the smaller man came up beside him again. Sentinel and Guide shared a moment of silent communion. 
> 
> Blair swallowed a sudden lump in his throat as he reached up to squeeze Jim's hand. "I knew you'd come back," he whispered softly. 
> 
> "I promised, didn't I?" 
> 
> "Yeah. Yeah, you did." Blair didn't even try to wipe the silly grin off his face. 
> 
> The moment passed, and Jim returned to the matter at hand. Not removing his arm from Blair's shoulders, he looked at Simon. "Do you have a way to get in touch with S&R?" 
> 
> "The ranger station gave me a two-way before we headed up here. Turnbow put it in his pack," Banks answered. 
> 
> "Good. I need to go back and get the others. The pilot's in serious condition from a gunshot wound. We'll need a med-evac chopper." 
> 
> "Okay, Jim. It shouldn't take long. Last we heard they had two teams combing the site of the crash. Is there somewhere they can land?" 
> 
> "The river's about fifty yards east of here. There should be enough room on the bank." 
> 
> Simon nodded. 
> 
> "I'm coming with you, man," Blair said. 
> 
> Jim looked down at Blair, starting to shake his head. Blair cut him off. "You're exhausted, Jim. You might--" 
> 
> "I might need you," Jim finished softly, nodding in agreement. "Widden, you lead Simon to the river. Blair and I will go collect the others, and join you there. Do you think you two will have a problem hauling this piece of trash to the river?" 
> 
> "We'll manage fine, sir. See you at the river." Widden handed one of the knives to Jim. 
> 
> Jim accepted the weapon, quickly tucking the knife into his boot. "Let's go, Chief." 
> 
> It took only minutes to find the other men. Jim trilled a whistle as they approached, and one of the men responded with another. Soon they joined the others under the shelter of the evergreen. A space blanket had been draped over the man on the stretcher, and the other two were sharing another. 
> 
> "How's he doing?" Jim asked immediately. 
> 
> "His fever's up a little, but he's still hangin' in there," the older-looking of the two unhurt men said. He looked curiously at Blair. "You made civilian contact?" 
> 
> Nodding at the question, Jim said, "Carson, Dunning, this is my partner, Blair Sandburg. Blair, Matt Carson and Rick Dunning." 
> 
> "Hello," Blair greeted quietly. The two men acknowledged him with nods. 
> 
> "Help's being called. We'll meet Widden and my boss at the river southeast of here." 
> 
> Quickly and efficiently, the former soldiers prepared to move out. The shared blanket was refolded and put away, the two meager packs were strapped on, then Carson and Dunning picked up the stretcher. With a satisfied nod, Jim set off. The others fell into step behind him, Blair bringing up the rear. 
> 
> It was full dark by the time they reached the section of riverbank where Widden and Simon were waiting. Widden had managed to light a small signal fire, and Simon had two heavy duty flashlights in hand. 
> 
> Carson and Dunning started in surprise when they made out the figure in cuffs next to the fire. 
> 
> "So that was the other mission you were talking about," Carson commented to Jim. "Somehow you knew Turnbow was here." 
> 
> Jim didn't answer, but his blue eyes glittered ferally. 
> 
> Sitting next to his partner, Blair felt Jim tense a few minutes later. Leaning closer to the Sentinel, he murmured, "The med-evac?" A tiny nod. "Okay. Dial it down, Jim. You can do it. I'm here." 
> 
> By now everyone could hear the whir of rotor blades as the helicopter approached. Simon stood up with the flashlights in his hands, and waved their beams back and forth. 
> 
> Once the chopper set down, four paramedics and a sheriff spilled out. Simon met the sheriff while two of the paramedics rushed to the gunshot victim. The remaining medics passed out granola bars, bottles of water, and blankets to the others, before beginning to check them over. 
> 
> When they started examining Jim, one of the paramedics tried to get Blair to move, but after the harrowing day of worry and fear, he wasn't about to let Jim get more than an arm's length from him. Jim seemed to share his feelings, because the older man kept brushing his shoulder, arm, or leg. Finally, Blair figured out that Jim wasn't just seeking the physical contact to be close, but also as an anchor for his wavering control. He scooted closer to the Sentinel, until their shoulders touched. Jim flashed him a look of silent gratitude. 
> 
> The partners sat in companionable silence while Jim munched on his granola bar. The paramedics worked around Blair as they tended to Ellison's minor cuts and contusions from the fight with Turnbow. 
> 
> In a surprisingly short time, everyone and everything was loaded onto the chopper. Jim and Blair found a spot in the back and strapped themselves in. 
> 
> "It's almost over, Chief," Jim said tiredly. 
> 
> Blair wasn't sure if he meant the flight, or the whole ordeal in general. He guessed it was the latter, as he nodded. 
> 
> "Happy anniversary, Blair." 
> 
> _Blair? Huh?_ The grad student stared at his partner. "What?" 
> 
> Jim found the energy for a tiny smile. "Fountain splashes last year, helicopter crashes this year. We have to find a safer way of celebrating this date, Chief." 
> 
> Blair paled as the realization hit him. It _was_ May 20th. "No argument from me, man. I'll make a note--no near-death experiences allowed in May." 
> 
> The big man chuckled softly, then said seriously, "It's been a long hard road from the fountain, but we made it. We're still friends, partners, more. Together." 
> 
> Blair stared at him for a moment longer, then a huge grin lit his face. "Yeah. Together. I wouldn't have it any other way." 
> 
> Together, Sentinel and Guide dozed, not caring when the sky opened up and rain began to fall. 

**August 20, Friday**

> Humming a tune under his breath, Blair unlocked the door and entered the loft. "Hey, Jim! You're home." 
> 
> Jim looked up from his task at the kitchen table, and smirked. "Gee, Darwin, you figure that out all on your own?" 
> 
> "Ha ha, funny, man." Blair looked at the array of stuff scattered over the table. Notepad, padded mailers, and small white boxes. He realized his partner had been home a while. "Something wrong?" 
> 
> "No. They released the coins today, and Simon let me take the rest of the day to take care of them." 
> 
> "That was fast, wasn't it?" Blair watched his partner place a coin between some cotton batting inside one of the little white boxes, write a note, carefully fold it, address one of the padded mailers, then place the note and box inside, and seal it. 
> 
> "Since the coins have owners waiting for them, and they were a very minor part of the case in the grand scheme of things, the court decided to expedite their release." 
> 
> Blair inclined his head, continuing to watch Jim, but his thoughts turned to the person responsible for making them evidence in the first place. 
> 
> Only a couple of days after the events on the mountain, Turnbow had been court-martialed for being absent without leave, and stealing and ultimately destroying a military helicopter. After that, he had been remanded into Federal custody pending his trial before a Federal District Court in Seattle. The trial had begun August fourth, and lasted exactly two weeks. Not only Jim, but Carson, Dunning, Widden, the pilot who was shot, young Elizabeth, and Blair himself had been called to testify. 
> 
> In what had to be a record, the jury had deliberated for barely ninety minutes before returning a verdict. Turnbow was found guilty on one count of harassment, five counts of kidnapping, and six counts of attempted murder. Due to the sheer volume of circumstantial evidence and Mike's testimony, Turnbow was also convicted of four counts of first degree murder. Blair had lost count of how many life sentences the man had accrued. 
> 
> Mike, the pilot who had helped Turnbow steal the chopper and abduct the four men and young girl, was also court-martialed. Because he testified against Turnbow, his sentence was plea bargained down to ten years, with the possibility of parole in three. 
> 
> Now, two days after the trial was over, the coins that had caused his partner so much anguish had been released from evidence. _Yeah, soon we can start putting this ordeal behind us._ Blair snapped back to the present when he realized his partner was speaking to him. 
> 
> "I'm sorry, Jim, what'd you say?" 
> 
> Jim rolled his eyes. "I said, there's still time to make it to the post office before they close. Do you want to come with? We can grab something to eat afterwards." 
> 
> "Sure, Jim. That sounds good." 
> 
> As they left the post office later, Blair breathed a big sigh. "Well, I guess that's over, finally." 
> 
> "Nope, not quite," Jim said, climbing into the truck. 
> 
> "Huh?" Blair scrambled in beside him. 
> 
> "We have one stop to make before we go commemorate the occasion." 
> 
> "Where?" 
> 
> Jim refused to answer. He just smiled slightly, and drove. It didn't take Blair long to begin to recognize what part of town they were getting into. His suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later, when Jim pulled the truck into the driveway of the Haley residence. He looked at Jim questioningly, but didn't ask as he followed the detective up to the front door. 
> 
> "Detective Ellison! Mr. Sandburg! This is a surprise. There's nothing wrong I hope?" Mrs. Haley greeted them with a warm smile, and ushered them inside. 
> 
> "How are you, Mrs. Haley?" Jim asked. 
> 
> "I have my good days and my bad days. I take them one at a time. That's all I can do," she said, leading them into the living room. "Thank you for asking. May I get you some refreshments?" 
> 
> Jim and Blair took seats on the sofa. "No, thank you. We can't stay long. I just stopped by to see how you were, and to give you this." Jim held out the small box he'd been holding. 
> 
> Giving them a puzzled glance, Lily accepted the little parcel. Carefully, she pulled off the lid, and froze. She could only stare at the contents nestled on the cotton, speechless. "John's coin," she managed to breathe. When Mrs. Haley finally looked up at them, her eyes were brimming with tears. 
> 
> Jim's own eyes were suspiciously bright, and Blair was sure his only added to the threatening flood. 
> 
> "Thank you," Lily whispered. "You know how much this means to me, don't you?" 
> 
> Jim nodded, reaching forward and gently clasping one of her hands. "I know." 
> 
> Twenty minutes later, they walked down the front steps. Jim looked at Blair, and smiled. Blair couldn't help but return it. "Now, it's over," Jim said quietly. 
> 
> Blair's smile turned into a grin. He patted his friend's arm as they continued on toward the truck. "Yeah, it's over." 
> 
> Jim chuckled, cuffing Blair lightly on the head. "Come on, Chief. Let's go eat."   
> 

**THE END**

* * *

Feedback is more than welcome! I even answer it. [_kandacek_](mailto:kandacek@skeeter63.org)  
If you see any glaring formatting errors, please let me know. I'd like to fix them. 


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